Unbreakable Bonds
by ColferPervertSoldier
Summary: Kurt and Carson Hummel were as close as twins could possibly be. Practically inseperable since birth. Meant to be together, you could say. Too bad life and love isn't as easy as we'd like it to be. THIS STORY INVOLVES TWINCEST AND IS NOT FOR EVERYONE. Please proceed with discretion and don't read if that isn't your thing. Co-written with the awesome Carol :D
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a new Glee/Struck By Lightning crossover story I'm working on with a friend. I'm going to go ahead and warn you that, as the story goes on, ****IT WILL CONTAIN TWINCEST****, and is therefore not for everyone. Please proceed with discretion, and just don't read if twincest isn't your thing. **

**Also, for those of you who are following**** 'Cause He's Irresistible,**** it has not been abandoned, I promise. I've just been super busy for the past month with school and stuff. There's a new chapter coming for that soon. :)**

Seventeen hours. That was exactly how long Elizabeth Hummel had spent in labor. Seventeen hours of contractions and rhythmic breathing and repeatedly sending Burt to get more ice chips. Seventeen hours of delightful anticipation. The longest seventeen hours of her entire life, to be exact. They were far behind her now, though, and the two angelic bundles she had to show for it were, in her opinion, the most perfect babies anyone had ever laid eyes on. It was true what they said, that the love was instantaneous.

"Hey, little man," she said softly, taking a squirming Carson into her arms and settling back into the wheelchair the hospital insisted she leave in. "Are you and your brother ready to go home?" Carson kept wriggling, scrunching up his face and letting out small, dissatisfied whimpers around the pacifier in his mouth. Elizabeth smiled down at him and then looked up at Burt, who was carrying Carson's identical twin, Kurt. Unlike his brother, Kurt was as calm and serene as a tiny angel. He could have easily been mistaken for being asleep if it weren't for his wide open blue eyes, which stared intently, taking in everything. Carson wriggled and reached out his arm toward his brother.

"I think the poor kiddo isn't used to being separated from his brother," said Burt thoughtfully, leaning down so that Kurt and Carson were face to face. Carson's whimpers lessened and his hand flew out to grab at Kurt's face, landing on his nose. Kurt didn't even react. He was clearly used to this. The Hummels had seen similar actions from Carson on the sonogram screen before the boys were born.

"Looks like you're right," Elizabeth agreed. "Here, give him to me," she said, maneuvering Carson to make room as Burt carefully lowered Kurt into her arms. Carson's small cries stopped altogether as he just stared at his twin.

"Brotherly love," said Burt with a smile. "Alright, let's get these two mini gentlemen and their beautiful mother home, shall we?"

The twins received quite the homecoming. Everybody who dropped by to see them commented on how adorable they were together and how lucky the Hummels were.

"Like two little peas in a pod," Elizabeth's mother commented as she first set eyes on her new grandchildren. "And so feisty! Especially this one," she said, picking up Carson, who disapproved of being picked up at all and started wailing his displeasure.

"Ok, Ok, I'm putting you down," Grandma soothed, setting him back down.

Carson was a crier in general. For the first several days the twins were home, he cried like clockwork every night, much to Burt and Elizabeth's dismay. They briefly worried that he might have colic, but since he only amped up the crying at bedtime, they doubted that this was the cause. At least his crying didn't seem to disturb Kurt, who slept like...well...like a baby.

"Shhhhh," said Elizabeth quietly on the fourth consecutive night of The Carson Hummel Crying Hour. Burt had been up with him the night before, so now it was her turn. She couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't wet. He just _cried_, and simply refused to stop, no matter how many soothing lullabies she tried singing.

"What's wrong, baby?" she asked softly, running her hand in soothing circles across his back as he continued his incessant crying. "What's got my baby boy so unhappy?" She glanced over at Kurt, who was sleeping peacefully in his own crib, entirely undisturbed by his brother's wails. _He's able to sleep through anything,_Elizabeth thought. _If only his big brother would follow his lead_. She glanced down at the miserable heap of Carson in her arms and then back over at Kurt, an idea starting to form as she remembered his reaction in the hospital when Kurt had been placed near him. _I wonder..._

She wasn't sure that it would work, and she knew that if it didn't she would have to deal with two unhappy babies instead of just one (Kurt, despite being the very definition of an angel while he was awake, certainly could be quite the angry little bear if he was woken up before he was ready). She decided it was worth a shot and that she'd risk it. She carried Carson across the room to Kurt's crib. Maybe it was just her imagination, but his cries seemed to lessen just the tiniest bit the closer she got. She reached the crib and carefully lowered Carson into it, settling him in beside Kurt.

The result was so immediate it was actually quite astonishing. Carson's wails ceased, his face relaxing as he hiccuped and then let out a satisfied gurgle. One small hand shot out, bonking Kurt right in the face, as though he were touching him to make sure he was real. Kurt slept on, unfazed, and Carson's eyes started to close.

_Well, what do you know?_ Elizabeth thought, smiling down at her sons. _He just missed his brother._ She watched as Carson drifted off to sleep, smiling down at her two beautiful babies as Burt shuffled into the room, rubbing his eyes.

"Is he finally out?" he asked sleepily, joining his wife beside the crib.

"Yep," she whispered. "Turns out he just wanted to be close to his brother. Look at them! They're so cute."

They certainly were. Carson let out a contented sigh and turned his head so that he and Kurt were face to face before finally falling completely asleep.

From then on, they learned it was best to just put Carson to bed in the same crib as Kurt every night. He would inevitably cry anyway until he was with Kurt, and this way they saved the hassle of having to get up and put him there.

By the time the twins were over a year old, they were still sleeping together every night. Everybody told the Hummels that this wasn't healthy, and that the boys needed to learn to sleep in their own beds, but truthfully, they were so adorable when they slept all curled up next to each other that their parents didn't have the heart to separate them. It seemed almost cruel to do so, since they were so incredibly close. It was fascinating to see the ways in which they were so in tune with one another. If Carson fell and skinned his knee, Kurt was the one who cried. If Kurt was unhappy, Carson would crawl over and coo at him until he smiled. They even had their own little language only they seemed to be able to understand. Burt and Elizabeth had spent many an hour engrossed in watching their boys talk to one in another in what sounded like gibberish to their adult ears, but which seemed to make perfect sense to Kurt and Carson, who carried on as though they were having a real conversation.

In fact, they didn't say actual words at all until they were almost two years old. Elizabeth had taken Kurt to the doctor's office for a checkup, leaving Burt at home with Carson, who wasn't happy at all with this turn of events. He didn't enjoy being separated from Kurt for any length of time, and he was incredibly cranky about it. He cried and whimpered in his playpen until Burt picked him up and bounced him gently, kissing his forehead.

"I know, buddy. He'll be back soon," he said soothingly as the phone rang. He carried Carson into the kitchen and balanced him on his hip with one hand while picking up the cordless phone with the other. As he spoke with one of his long-time customers about a tire order, he absentmindedly carried Carson around the house, pausing in front of the mantle in the living room as he tried to recall the answer to a question his customer had asked. Carson, thankfully, had pretty much stopped his whimpering, so focused was he on the mantle behind Burt. He squirmed and reached out his small hands over Burt's shoulder.

"Kurt."

Burt froze, his conversation forgotten as he looked at his son, who was still staring intently at something on the mantle. Had he just said...?

"I'm sorry, can I call you back?" he said into the phone, not waiting for an answer before setting it down and focusing his attention on Carson. "What did you say, buddy?"

"Kurt," repeated Carson, making grabby hands and trying to wiggle his way out of his father's grasp. Burt turned around to see what had Carson so mesmerized. It turned out to be a small, framed photograph of Kurt, taken shortly after the twins had come home from the hospital. Carson was reaching desperately for it, practically throwing himself at the mantle. "Kurt! KURT!"

_How the heck did he know that was a picture of Kurt?_ thought Burt as he took the picture off the mantle and cautiously handed it to Carson, who eagerly grabbed it and broke into a huge smile.

"Kurt," he said again, staring down at the photo. "Kurt Kurt Kurt."

"Yes," agreed Burt, grinning at his son. "That's Kurt!" He couldn't _wait_ until Elizabeth got home so he could tell her about this.

As if on cue, Elizabeth burst through the door at that very second, a glowing smile on her face and her hair flying as she hugged Kurt to her chest.

"You will NEVER guess what Kurtsie just did in the car," she said excitedly, "He said his first word, didn't you baby," she continued before Burt could answer, looking to Kurt and rubbing her nose to his. "Go on, sweetie, say it. Say it again for Daddy." She pointed to Carson and looked at Kurt. "Who's that, Kurtsie?"

Kurt's small face erupted into the brightest smile. "ARSON!" he screeched gleefully, reaching out one arm to touch his brother. Carson grinned back at him, the photo forgotten. "Kurt!"

Burt choked back tears as he informed his shocked wife that their sons' first words happened on the same day, and that they were each other's names.

* * *

Carson couldn't remember a time in which he hadn't been there for Kurt, designating himself as his brother's best friend and protector. Nobody messed with Kurt unless they wanted a very angry Carson on their hands. The twins' grandmother delighted in telling strangers about the time when they were four years old and she had taken them to the park and given each boy an ice cream cone. As she sat on a nearby bench and watched them, a slightly older boy had come up to them. He considered them thoughtfully for a minute before grabbing Kurt's ice cream with one hand and pushing him down onto the ground with the other.

Kurt landed on his back and burst into tears. Before anyone had any time to react to the situation, Carson was on the move, walking right up to the bully who had hurt his brother. Without letting go of his own ice cream, he brought one small foot up and fearlessly kicked the other boy hard in the knee, causing him to scream and fall over. His work finished, he had calmly walked back over to Kurt, who was being comforted by Grandma. Carson gave him a tight hug and then handed him his own ice cream. Kurt's tears had stopped immediately.

"You should have been there! It was just the cutest thing I had ever seen in my life," Grandma loved to say. "I was so proud of that boy, standing up for his brother like that."

Basically, if you messed with Kurt, you messed with Carson. Kurt was the only person he ever seemed to show any affection for. To most people, he was aloof and disinterested, interacting with them only on an as-needed basis. It wasn't like that with Kurt at all. He was always bright and animated around his brother, gladly doing whatever it took to keep him happy. If that meant he had to sit through the occasional tea party with Kurt and Kurt's stuffed animals, or help Kurt make pretend cakes in his toy kitchen, then he was happy to do it, just so long as it was putting a smile on his brother's face.

"You are SO lucky I love you, Kurtsie," he often said. "There's no way I'd ever play tea party with anyone else. Only you."

Basically, he would happily move heaven and earth, if possible, to protect Kurt and keep him happy. He was like Kurt's own personal bodyguard, a role that only grew stronger as they got older. He did everything in his power to make sure that Kurt was always spared any kind of pain. He liked to think he did a pretty good job.

Unfortunately, there are some things you can't shield people from, no matter how much you'd like to.

The first time their mother had landed in the hospital wasn't entirely unexpected. She'd been tired and short of breath for months, unable to do nearly as much as she used to without having to stop and rest frequently. She had brushed off everyone's pleas that she get checked out by a doctor, insisting she was fine and that it was just a really bad flu or something. She couldn't deny it anymore when she had fainted at the party for the twins' seventh birthday, sending Kurt into hysterical tears as he threw himself into Carson's arms, burying his face in his brother's neck as their mother was loaded into an ambulance. Grandma had stayed with the boys at the house while Burt had stayed with Elizabeth at the hospital, and from eavesdropping out in the hallway when his father called, Carson managed to gather that there was something very wrong with his mother's heart. He didn't tell Kurt when he asked if he knew what was wrong. He didn't know how to.

"I don't know, Kurt. I guess maybe she's just really tired, that's all."

"Oh," said Kurt. "But...the doctors will make her better, right?"

"...right," said Carson, hoping this was true.

That was the first time.

Elizabeth's second hospital stay happened several months later, after the medication she had been taking for her heart had seemed to stop working at all. She stayed much longer this time, almost a month, and the boys visited her almost every day, whether with Grandma or with Burt. It was weird, Carson thought, seeing their once vital, healthy mother hooked up to so many monitors, looking so pale and listless. He knew it scared Kurt, and he did his best to lighten the mood however he could, mostly by cracking jokes and making both Kurt and Elizabeth laugh.

"I want you boys to promise me something," Elizabeth said one day, gesturing for them to stand next to her hospital bed.

"What is it, Mom?" Kurt asked curiously.

"I want you to promise me that you'll both always take care of one another," she replied softly, taking one of each of their hands and squeezing. "That no matter what, you'll always be there for each other. Please? Promise?"

Carson felt a sense of dread in the way she said that, but tried to ignore it. "Of course, Mom! I promise to always take care of Kurt. I have to, he's my brother!"

Kurt smiled. "Me, too."

"Good boys," their mother had replied. "My perfect babies." She wrapped them in a hug and kissed both of their foreheads before drifting off to sleep.

That was the second time.

The third time was different, and everyone knew it, whether they admitted it or not. Elizabeth had only been getting worse, not better, and Burt hardly ever smiled anymore. Grandma had moved in permanently to help care for the twins, and the moments in which Elizabeth was conscious enough to carry on brief conversations with her family were few and far between. So, Carson wasn't too surprised when Burt sat him and Kurt down one evening and said that he had something very important to talk to them about.

"Is this about Mom?" Carson asked, as Kurt plopped down next to him on the couch.

"Well...yes. Yes, it...it is," Burt said tiredly, removing his hat and pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't going to be easy to tell you kids, so I want you to pay close attention, OK?"

The boys nodded in unison.

"Ok, well, you know how Mom has been...how she hasn't been well for a long time."

Carson nodded. Kurt looked down at his hands.

"Well, the thing is, boys, that in order for her to...to get better, she would need a new heart. Hers is just too tired to keep up with her anymore."

"Why can't the hospital just give her a new heart then?" Kurt asked in a small, sad voice that twisted Carson's stomach.

Burt looked at him sympathetically. "They'd like to, kiddo, but unfortunately they can't just give her any old heart. It has to be a good match for her, and they're just...they're just not able to...to find one for her." His voice shook with restrained tears as he looked at his sons.

"Is she going to be OK?" Carson asked, even though he knew the answer. He felt Kurt inch closer to him until their bodies were touching, the two of them sharing the same seat on the sofa.

Burt closed his eyes for a long moment before he spoke. "No, buddy. She's not. As difficult as this is for me to say...I'm afraid we don't have much more time with your mother."

"No!" Kurt whined, bursting into tears and burying his face into Carson's shoulder. Carson, who prided himself on never crying, ever, felt tears start to slip down his own face as he wrapped his arms around Kurt and held him close.

The day Elizabeth Hummel was buried was sunny yet freezing. The minister presiding over the burial was saying a lot of things about how she was "In a better place" now, but neither boy was paying much attention. Kurt's hand never left Carson's during the entire funeral service, which Carson found oddly comforting. Maybe because it gave him something solid and real to hold onto. Kurt was his rock, and he was Kurt's. It had always been that way, but now it felt even more true than ever before. He glanced over at his father, who was holding on to Kurt's other hand, his eyes glistening with tears. It was weird, seeing him cry. Out of place. Like seeing Halloween decorations in the middle of December. Fathers weren't supposed to cry, especially not theirs. Their father had always been too strong for that.

Kurt stayed glued to Carson's side all day long, like his identical shadow. He said nothing. He didn't even cry anymore after awhile. He just clung to his twin as if he were a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. Carson didn't mind at all. Kurt was a welcome distraction from his own wrecked feelings, and focusing on comforting him took Carson's mind off of things.

"Carson?" Kurt asked that night, as he slipped into bed beside his twin. They still shared a bed, even at eight years old. They had tried separate beds for about three days once, when they were five. It hadn't worked out. Neither boy had been able to sleep without the other beside him.

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"Do you believe in heaven?"

Carson thought about it a minute. "No."

Kurt nodded. "Me, either. I think it's all made up. Like fairy tales." He sighed, yawned, and flopped back against his pillows. He was asleep within seconds, obviously exhausted from the events of the day. Carson couldn't blame him. He was as emotionally drained as it was possible to be. He snuggled up beside Kurt and heaved a shuddery breath, allowing himself to cry a little now that Kurt couldn't see.

He awoke several hours later to find the spot beside him empty. Kurt was gone. Carson sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around the dark basement bedroom. Where was he?

"Mom?" he heard a small voice call out from the corner. Kurt. Carson squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark.

"MOM?"

Kurt was across the room, standing in the corner facing the wall breathing heavily. Carson flew out of bed and bounded over to him.

"MOOOOOM!" Kurt sobbed, his voice high and fearful. Carson reached him and tentatively reached out a hand to touch his brother's shoulder. Kurt was shaking like a leaf, his whole body vibrating with panic, but he didn't otherwise react to Carson's touch. Looking closer, Carson could see that Kurt's eyes were open, but were unfocused. Carson gingerly tapped him on the arm. No reaction. He was asleep.

"Shhh," he said softly, gingerly placing both hands on either of Kurt's shoulders and leading him gently back toward the bed. "It's ok," he whspered. "You're ok." Kurt's eyes fluttered open and looked around.

"C-carson?" he asked, his voice shaky and scared.

"Yeah," Carson said quietly. "You were having a nightmare, Kurtsie. Come on, let's get back into bed." He guided Kurt under the covers and slipped in beside him, wrapping his arms around him in a comforting embrace.

"It was awful, Carson," Kurt sniffed, his breath coming out in shaky gasps. "I could see Mom, and there was something coming to get us, something big and shadowy, and...and...I..."

"Shhhh," Carson soothed, holding him tighter. "It's OK. You're safe now. I've got you."

Kurt let out a shuddery sigh and seemed to relax a bit, settling into his twin's arms. "Don't leave me."

"I won't," Carson agreed. Of course he wouldn't. He would be strong for Kurt, no matter what. He had promised. And Carson Phillip Hummel never went back on his promises.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok, so, the creative juices were flowing for this and I ended up getting it done before 'Cause He's Irresistible. Thankfully, my school semester is over in 10 days and I will be able to devote much more undivided time to writing. Anyways...this is actually the first half of what was turning out to be a HUGE chapter, and I figured that instead of making people wait, I would just publish the first part now. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it!**

Carson exited the journalism classroom and slung his bag over his shoulder, sighing heavily and trying to push aside his exhaustion, since it wasn't even 8 a.m. He didn't suppose this would be the best issue of _The McKinley High Muckraker_ ever published, but it would be adequate. After all, it was hard to consistently publish quality material when you were the only person on the newspaper staff who even gave a shit. But, nobody ever said that the life of a journalist was an easy one. If Carson had to write all the stories himself most of the time and come into school at an obscenely early hour in order to get the issue out, then so be it. He wouldn't ever have it said that he was a slacker. He just hoped Northwestern would appreciate all of his effort when the time came for him to apply there in his senior year.

Three more school years. He just had to hang on for that long, and then he'd be free from Lima.

He shuffled down the hallway and out the back door of the school, parking himself on the stone steps right outside, where he and Kurt always met on the frequent mornings when Carson had to come in early to work on the_Muckraker_. He looked around in all directions, but there was no sign of his twin.

After ten minutes had gone by and there was still no sign of Kurt, Carson sighed and got up off the steps, heading toward the parking lot. It was entirely possible that Kurt had gotten held up by that annoying Rachel Berry chick wanting help with her French homework or something, in which case, Carson thought, he really should go rescue his brother from her clutches.

He turned the corner just in time to see a sight across the parking lot that made his blood boil. There stood Kurt in front of the dumpster, surrounded by those assholes from the football team who were always picking on him for no reason. One of the taller ones was holding Kurt's new Marc Jacobs jacket while the others were lifting him up to toss him in the dumpster. As if his baby brother was nothing but a piece of trash.

Fuck no. Not again. This was becoming too much.

His jaw set, Carson marched across the parking lot, determined to rip every last one of those jackasses a new one. He reached them in record time, grabbing Kurt's jacket out of the hands of the slack-jawed moron who was holding onto it.

"I don't know who the fuck all you Neanderthal assholes think you are, but I am SO sick of your bullshit, and you had better get out of my sight within the next five seconds," Carson practically spat, carefully folding the jacket and placing it into his bag alongside all his papers. Kurt wouldn't want it to get wrinkled.

"Or what?" asked one of the jocks threateningly, getting up in his face.

"Or I swear to God, I will put itching powder and chili peppers in all of your jockstraps when you least expect it," Carson replied cooly. "Now get the hell away from me, and you'd better hope I never catch you doing this to my brother ever again!"

One by one, the jocks started to leave, most of them throwing Carson dirty looks as they did so. Carson rolled his eyes and carefully set his bag down before peering into the dumpster.

"Are they gone?" Kurt asked, his eyes screwed pitifully shut as he lay among the rotting garbage. The sight made Carson's stomach twist.

"Yeah...yeah, they're gone," he replied, reaching his hands out to Kurt and making a grabbing gesture. "Come on, Kurtsie. Let's get you out of there."

Kurt grabbed onto his brother's hands and Carson gently pulled him up, lifting him out of the dumpster and setting him on the ground. Kurt looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Great, now I'm going to smell like trash all day. Wonderful," he murmured. "I don't know how they even knew I was there. They just cornered me out of the blue, and then I thought I was saved when Mr. Schuester walked by, but he didn't even seem to notice. Story of my life." He looked around, a panicked look suddenly appearing on his face. "Oh god, my jacket! If Finn walked off with it, on top of everything else-"

"Relax, I've got it," said Carson, indicating his bag, which he was slinging back over his shoulder. "All folded up for safekeeping."

Kurt's face relaxed. "Oh, good. Thanks."

"Anything for you," said Carson, throwing his arm around his twin and not even giving any thought to the garbage he was covered in. "We should probably go get you cleaned up."

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of the school day passed without incident, and soon Carson and Kurt were in their shared SUV, on their way to visit their grandmother. Grandma had lived with the Hummels until the boys were twelve, when her ever-increasing memory difficulty had been diagnosed as Alzheimer's. It had almost killed Carson inside when Burt had made the decision to place her in an assisted living home, although it made sense to do so. Private home care would have been way more expensive than Burt could manage, since he worked long hours at his tire shop and the boys were too young to be expected to help very much. To Carson, it kind of felt like losing his mother all over again. He visited her every afternoon without fail, always hoping that it would be one of her better days and that she would remember who he was. Who Kurt was. All the good and bad times she had shared with them. It was rarely one of those days, but that didn't stop him from always hoping.

He glanced over to the passenger seat at Kurt, who was looking thoughtfully out the window. Kurt didn't usually make a habit of joining him on these visits. Carson understood. It was hard for Kurt to see their grandmother deteriorating further with each passing year. Kurt never actually said this, but he didn't need to. Carson knew. Twin telepathy and all of that.

"Penny for your thoughts," said Carson.

Kurt looked over at him. "Well, you know how Rachel got Mr. Ryerson fired after she told Figgins about his, shall we say, _inappropriate_ behavior?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah."

"Ok, well, she came up to Mercedes and I during last period and started going on about how she had heard that Mr. Schuester had talked to Figgins about taking over the glee club," Kurt continued, tapping his long fingers excitedly on the side of the door. "And...I kind of want to audition for it."

"You should!" agreed Carson. "You're easily the best singer in the entire school. I doubt most of the beady eyed cattle that roam those halls can even carry a tune in a bucket."

"Oh, Carson, that's not true and you know it," Kurt protested, but even out of the corner of his eye Carson would see the small smile playing on his twin's lips.

"I only call it like I see it, Kurtsie," he replied smoothly, pulling into the parking lot of Sunny Pastures Assisted Living.

Sunny Pastures was a quaint building that used to be a private home and was converted several decades earlier. It was huge and made of red brick, with lovely landscaping and several beautiful flower gardens for the residents to walk through. Carson liked it well enough. If their grandmother had to stay somewhere other than with them, he was glad this was the place, especially since the staff was awesome.

He and Kurt worked their way through the familiar halls, stopping to say hello to several nurses who knew them by name, before reaching their grandmother's room. Carson pushed the door open and gestured to Kurt. "After you," he said, smiling.

Kurt looked nervous. He always did on the infrequent occasions when he accompanied Carson to Sunny Pastures. Carson grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

"Hi, Grandma!" he said cheerfully. She was sitting up in her bed, flipping through what appeared to be a clothing catalog. She looked up at Carson's words and smiled.

"Visitors!" she said. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid we haven't met."

Carson could feel Kurt's breath hitching without even looking at him. "I'm Carson, and this is my brother, Kurt."

She kept smiling. "That's a coincidence. I have twin grandsons named Carson and Kurt, too. They're much younger than you are, though. I haven't seen them in a long time. Used to be I saw them all the time," she said, sounding sad.

"Yeah, I...I think we know them, don't we, Kurt?" he said, squeezing Kurt's hand harder.

"Yeah..yes. Yes, we do," Kurt said quietly, looking down at the floor.

Grandma's face lit up. "You do? That's wonderful! Maybe you can let them know I miss them and would love to visit with them someday soon?"

Carson heard a choked sound escape Kurt's throat at those words. He was beginning to regret coming here with him. Kurt always had such a hard time handling these visits. He wasn't used to it like Carson was, and it hit him harder to not be recognized by their grandmother.

They stayed only a few minutes more before Carson could sense that they should probably leave before Kurt broke down and ran out of the room himself.

They said their goodbyes and went back out to the car. Kurt didn't say a word the entire way home. He was still quiet throughout most of the evening as the boys did their homework and then ate dinner by themselves, since their father was staying late at the tire shop. Carson decided he should probably do something to lift Kurt's spirits a little. It was depressing to see him so glum.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he asked him, loading his drink glass into the dishwasher. "You can choose. Anything you want."

Kurt considered the offer, a smile starting to spread across his face. "_Anything_ I want?"

Carson froze. "Oh god, you're not going to make me watch _The Little Mermaid_ again, are you? Because you know I'm not able to hold my tongue during that one. It's a horrible example for children, what with a sixteen year old girl getting permanent body modifications in order to impress her crush who doesn't even know she exists, and-"

"Relax," Kurt interrupted him, rolling his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking _Chicago_. I'm planning on singing "Mr. Cellophane" for my glee club audition."

"Oh," said Carson. "Ok, then." He shut the dishwasher door and held out his hand to Kurt. "Well, come on. Let us go and watch murderers be glorified through song and dance."

Kurt took his hand and began to drag him toward the living room, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

"I most certainly am not. I'm just...honest."

"Mmm-hmm," said Kurt, setting up the DVD as Carson sat down. "Make fun all you want, but don't forget that I've heard you humming "Razzle Dazzle" in the shower." He joined his twin on the couch and curled up immediately, with his head on Carson's lap, using it as a pillow. Carson didn't mind this in the least. The close contact was soothing, and he secretly loved petting at Kurt's hair. Not to mention that being the only person Kurt let get away with touching it was a wonderful privilege in and of itself. Most people who tried to touch the hair Kurt worked so hard to maintain would end up losing a hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I told you, we never speak of that," Carson said, absentmindedly threading his fingers through the soft, chestnut locks on Kurt's head. "I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Noted," Kurt said with a yawn. "And keep doing that," he added, indicating Carson's fingers in his hair. "Feels nice."

Carson smiled and obliged as the opening notes of "All That Jazz" filled the room. He didn't even notice that Kurt had fallen asleep until halfway through the movie, when he looked down at his lap and saw that his twin's eyes were closed and he was breathing deep and even. He looked so sweet and innocent like that. Like a sleeping angel. Carson smiled. Kurt was the one perfect thing in what he had come to learn was terribly cruel world indeed.

He was debating whether he should wake Kurt up so they could go to sleep in their bed or just stay put and let him continue sleeping on his lap when the front door opened and Burt walked in, home from work at last.

"Hey, boys," he said tiredly, hanging up his coat and adjusting his hat.

"Hey, Dad," Carson said quietly, not wanting to disturb Kurt.

"How was your day?"

"Oh, you know. Same old," replied Carson. He and his father didn't really have the greatest success in the daily conversation department. Between the twins, Kurt had the easier time relating to Burt. It had always been that way. Burt tried bonding with Carson, of course, but as Carson felt terribly awkward around most people who weren't Kurt, it never really worked out. The only other people Carson had ever really felt a close connection with were his mother and his grandmother, and neither of them, of course, had been an option for years. "How was yours?" he asked back.

"It was good. Busy," Burt replied with a nod, his gaze falling to the sleeping Kurt in Carson's lap. "Long day for him, huh?"

"I guess so." Carson gently took the remote from where it still rested in Kurt's hand and shut the television off. "I think I'm gonna get him to bed. I'm sleepy, too."

"Yeah, it's pretty late. I'll, uh...I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Good night, Dad."

Burt headed upstairs and Carson gently shook Kurt awake. "Hey, Kurtsie, it's late and you're squishing me," he said quietly as Kurt's eyes fluttered open. "Let's get to bed, ok?"

"M'comfortable here," mumbled Kurt in response, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist.

"You'll be even more comfortable in bed," said Carson. "And do you really want to fall asleep for the whole night without doing your moisturizing routine? You'd hate yourself in the morning."

Kurt's eyes shot fully open. "Oh god, you're right!" He sat up and yawned, getting up off the couch and stretching. "If I skip a night, my face feels dryer than the Sahara."

They made their way down to their basement bedroom. Not much had changed in it over the years, except for the fact that Kurt had meticulously decorated it to his tastes the summer before. He had asked Carson if he had any input, which Carson did not. He really couldn't care less what their room looked like, as long as Kurt was happy with it.

The twins still slept in one bed, for a variety of reasons. For one thing, it saved space in the room, which wasn't nearly as large as it appeared. One large bed took up less space in general than two beds would. For another thing, both boys just felt weird sleeping alone at this point. They'd shared a bed so often during their childhood that it was like second nature now. Not to mention the fact that Kurt had developed a problem with sleepwalking ever since their mother had died. Carson had woken up on many a night to find Kurt gone, wandering around the house whimpering at whatever frightening images were filling his dreams. These episodes, more often than not, only happened when Kurt was worried or stressed about something, and usually ended with Carson leading him back to bed, holding him tightly and stroking his hair as he rode out the nightmare. He didn't know how either of them were going to deal when the time came to move out and go to college, but he figured they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

Carson changed into his pajama pants and T-shirt and waited in bed for Kurt, jotting down a few notes for the _Muckraker_ in the small notebook he kept in his nightstand. You never knew when inspiration would strike, and Carson liked to be prepared with paper and a pen at all times, just in case.

"Ok, face is moisturized," said Kurt, yawning and climbing into bed beside Carson. "Now, let's get some sleep, shall we? Rachel said that the signup sheet for glee auditions goes up in the morning, and the actual auditions are at lunch, and I need my rest if I'm going to sing well enough to get in."

"I really don't think you have to worry," said Carson, putting his notebook away and turning out the light. "Like I said, you're the best singer in the place. Mr. Schuester would be an idiot to not let you in."

Kurt's smile was visible even in the darkened room. "Good night, Carson."

"Good night."

* * *

"I'm nervous," whispered Kurt. He and Carson were sitting in the auditorium, waiting for Mr. Schuester to call Kurt's name to come up and audition.

"Don't be," said Carson, giving his hand a squeeze. "What have I told you?"

Kurt closed his eyes and took a breath. "That I'm a good singer."

"And?"

"That I'm going to nail it."

"Aaaand?"

"That I have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"Right," said Carson approvingly, as Kurt's friend Mercedes finished up her audition. "And I'm here for moral support. You'll be fine."

"Kurt?" said Mr. Schuester, glancing back to where the twins sat and smiling at Kurt. "Your turn."

Kurt swallowed and got up, giving Mercedes a high five as he passed her on his way to the stage. He stood and faced the audience, introducing himself and his song before starting to sing. Carson couldn't help but grin. It was a good thing nobody could see him back there, because grinning wasn't something he was especially known for. Kurt's singing voice was gorgeous, though, and Carson was proud. He loved any time he got the opportunity to hear it. As Kurt finished the song and held a long note (slicking his fingers across his hair in the process, a signature Kurt move), Carson glanced to Mr. Schuester, who was jotting something down on his clipboard. It better have been praise for that flawless performance.

"Thank you, Kurt," he said. "That was very nice." Kurt smiled and made his way back to his seat beside Carson, breathing a sigh of relief.

"See? I told you. You were great," said Carson, squeezing Kurt's arm affectionately. "I loved it."

"Thanks," said Kurt happily. They sat and watched as a girl named Tina auditioned with "I Kissed A Girl," followed by a wheelchair-bound boy called Artie, who auditioned with some rap song Carson had never heard of. Then Carson had to bite back a loud groan as none other than Rachel Berry took the stage.

Rachel had been going to school with the Hummel boys since they were all in the first grade, and neither of them could stand her. She was obnoxious, extremely loud for someone so short, and rather reminded Carson of a troll. She was always going on and on about how she was going to be a huge Broadway star someday because all a casting director had to do was listen to her sing and they'd be falling all over themselves. Quite frankly, Carson thought she held a rather disproportionately high opinion of herself. She could hit high notes and shit, that much was true, but her voice itself was like nails on a chalkboard to him. He pitied the poor, unspecting Broadway patrons of the future if she ever got cast in anything.

"My name is Rachel Berry and I'll be singing "On My Own" from the seminal Broadway classic, _Les Mis_," said Rachel, flashing a wide smile at Mr. Schuester.

"Oh god," groaned Carson. Kurt elbowed him. Three agonizing minutes later, Rachel mercifully finished singing and Mr. Schuester took to the stage.

"You all were amazing, and I'm happy to say that I'd love for all of you to be a part of New Directions," he said, smiling out into the audience. "So, congratulations to all of you, and rehearsals start tomorrow right after school."

Kurt's face lit up and he grinned from ear to ear, turning to Carson. "I'm in!" he squeaked, wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

"I told you," Carson said, hugging him back, happy that his twin was happy.

Several days later, he was decidedly _less_ happy as he sat in on the glee club's first actual rehearsal held inside the auditorium. He had his notepad and pen in hand, figuring that he could support Kurt and turn the new face of the glee club into a story for the school paper at the same time. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of spending an hour listening to Rachel sing, but he was prepared to suffer for both his twin and his art.

He was not at all prepared to see that New Directions had apparently added a sixth new member, and that member was one of the football assholes who were always around as Kurt was being tossed in dumpsters or having frozen Slushies thrown in his face. Carson recognized him as Finn Hudson, quarterback of the McKinley Titans and also the one who had been holding Kurt's jacket during the dumpster attack the other day. Carson's face settled into a dark scowl. Who the hell did this guy think he was, popping up in the one place Kurt could freely enjoy himself? Since when did jocks join something like glee club, anyway?

He watched as Rachel and Finn performed an embarrassing rendition of "You're The One That I Want." It was truly horrifying to watch as Rachel attempted to flirt with the guy through her singing. Carson thought he would barf when she theatrically ran her hands down Kurt's body as she passed him, and poor Kurt looked disgusted, too.

_I can't believe he practically just got molested by Rachel Freaking Berry_, Carson thought, all attempts to take notes for the paper forgotten as he watched the sad little rehearsal unfold in front of him. _That's so gross. I hope he doesn't throw up right there on stage. I know I would, if it were me._

To add to the entire disturbing display, Carson wouldn't help but notice the way his brother was looking at Finn. It wasn't the face of someone who was uncomfortable in the presence of one of their tormentors. No, it looked more like...like..

_Holy fuck_, Carson thought, realizing exactly what it was. _He has a CRUSH on that Neanderthal._

Rehearsal couldn't end fast enough. When it finally did, and the twins were headed for the student parking lot, Carson let it all out.

"Um...what the hell is Finn Hudson, of all people, doing in glee club?" he asked.

"Oh, that. Well. after our first rehearsal, Rachel complained that she didn't have a good enough male lead to sing with, or whatever, so Mr. Schue somehow managed to convince Finn to join," Kurt explained. "I think he's actually pretty good."

"Good? Are you kidding? He sounded like an injured moose. And have you forgotten that he has happily stood by on more than one occasion while his caveman friends threw you into piles of rotting garbage?" Carson asked, sliding into the passenger seat of their car as Kurt started the engine.

"No," replied Kurt, "but, to be fair, he didn't do the actual tossing. And he usually holds onto my jacket for me. That's...that's sweet of him."

"SWEET?" Carson couldn't believe his ears. "Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah, it's real sweet that he's willing to stand by and do nothing while you're bullied by his friends. What a hero. And this is the kind of guy you have a crush on?"

Kurt blushed furiously, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I don't have a crush on him, Carson. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"Kurt," Carson said, shaking his head. "We're twins, remember? I know you better than you know yourself most of the time, and you have a crush on Finn Hudson so huge it can be seen from space. And I have to say, I don't approve."

Kurt shot him an angry look. "Why do you care? He's NOT that bad!"

Carson sighed. "Kurt, I love you, but think this through, will you? First of all, he's straight. Secondly, even if he were gay, he wouldn't even come close to deserving you."

"But-"

"No, listen to me. In addition to the dumpster thing, and all the Slushies, he's thrown balloons filled with pee at you on several occasions, and the people he calls his friends have nailed our lawn furniture to the roof. Is this really what you want for yourself? You could so so much better. You deserve so much better!"

Kurt was silent. Carson looked down at his hands. "I just don't trust him or his minions, that's all. You know how protective I am."

Kurt gave him a small smile. "I'm aware."

* * *

"We're dead," Kurt said as he entered the journalism classroom, collapsing dramatically into an empty chair. 'We're totally dead."

Carson looked up from the laptop on which he was composing an editorial about what a travesty it was that jocks and cheerleaders were allowed to get by with subpar grades while the rest of the student body had to work harder.

"Who's dead?"

"We are," Kurt said. "The glee club. After the pep assembly this week, we are DEAD."

Carson peeked over the rim of his glasses. "Ok, I'll bite. Why are you dead?"

Kurt heaved a huge sigh and straddled the chair, hugging his arms around the back of it. "Mr. Schue is making us perform a disco number to recruit new members because we need at least twelve to qualify for sectionals. A disco number, Carson. DISCO. Nobody likes disco! The entire student body is going to kill us!"

"Wow," replied Carson, tapping away at his laptop thoughtfully. "I always knew Schuester was kind of an idiot, but this takes the proverbial cake. Is he really trying to recruit new members or is he just trying to embarrass all of you to death?"

"Thank you, my feelings exactly!" groaned Kurt. "Seriously, what the hell? I can't perform disco in front of the entire school, Carsey! I just can't. I suffer enough here without the added stigma of being Disco Guy. The Slushies will never end! My poor wardrobe cannot handle this."

"I solemnly promise to personally kick the ass of anyone to even dares to say the word "Slushie" to you," Carson said matter-of-factly, closing his laptop and giving Kurt a sympathetic look. "You guys could always refuse to do it, you know."

"No, we can't," said Kurt glumly, his chin resting on his hands. "We have to perform and then we're going to be the laughingstock of the school even more than we already are." He bit his lip, as though he were trying not to cry. "And to top it all, I got tossed in the dumpster again this morning."

Carson felt a flare of anger. "Those jocks again? I'll kick their asses. Starting with Finn. I knew having him in glee club with you was a bad idea."

Kurt shook his head. "No, Finn wasn't there. It was Noah Puckerman and a bunch of other guys."

_Fucking assholes._ Carson sighed and placed his laptop in his bag. He stood up, grasping Kurt by the hands and leading him out the door. "Alright, it's been quite a day for you, so why don't we get you home and we can lay in bed and watch those weird romantic comedies you love so much."

"Okay," Kurt mumbled grumpily.

Three movies later, Carson could tell Kurt was feeling a little better, but that the anxiety of the upcoming assembly was still at the forefront of his mind. As Kurt climbed back in beside him after his facial routine, Carson had the uneasy feeling that it would be a sleepwalking night for Kurt.

He was right. He woke up at 3am to discover Kurt standing up beside the bed and facing the wall, muttering under his breath. Carson caught snippets such as "I told you," "Nobody likes disco," and "Stop throwing fruit at us" as he got up and gently steered his sleeping twin back into bed.

"It's alright, Kurt," he whispered soothingly, getting in beside him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, as he always did when this happened. "Nobody's throwing anything at you. You're with me."

He felt Kurt relax in his arms and planted a soft kiss to his twin's hair before drifting back off to sleep.

Two days later, when Carson got home from his afternoon visit with Grandma at Sunny Pastures, he found himself with an armful of Kurt, who had thrown his arms around Carson's neck and was jumping up and down with excitement.

"We don't have to do disco! Praise everything!" he exclaimed. Carson smiled.

"Great! So Mr. Schue came to his senses for once and realized that disco would be social suicide?" he asked, setting his bag down.

"Well...not exactly," said Kurt furtively. "Rachel kind of had an idea."

"Oh god, you're all excited over an idea thought up by Rachel Berry? What the hell has that club done to you?" Carson asked, horrified at the possibilities.

"I know, I know, it's shocking, but actually, it's kind of a good one, I think," said Kurt, following Carson into the kitchen and sitting at the table. "See, she went to a celibacy club meeting yesterday-"

"We-Only-Give-Blowjobs Club, got it," quipped Carson, grabbing an apple and taking a bite.

"-and she had this idea that what we really need to recruit members is sex appeal," Kurt finished.

Carson choked on his apple. "_Sex appeal?_ Rachel does realize that SHE'S in glee, right? If you're going for sex appeal, that right there is going to throw a huge wrench in the plan."

Kurt glared at him. "I know it's a long shot, but it's the best plan we've got, so a little support would be nice."

"Ok, ok. So, I'm assuming that Schuester doesn't know about this?" Carson asked.

"No, not at all. Are you insane? He'd never let us do it, and then we'd be stuck singing "Le Freak" and getting rotten fruit thrown at us," said Kurt.

"What are you performing?"

"Push It, by Salt-n-Pepa," replied Kurt. "I wasn't too sure about the song choice, but it's way better than disco and we're less likely to get things thrown at us this way. We put together a little dance routine today, and as much as it pains me to admit that Rachel had a good idea, she did. Will you be there tomorrow?" he asked.

"You mean go to that assembly and watch Rachel Berry try to be sexy? Do I HAVE to?" Carson asked in between bites of his apple.

"Pleeeease, Carsey? I know you usually skip these things, but you have to come! You'll be the only member of the audience that doesn't think I'm a total loser!" Kurt whined, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and making the wounded puppy face he knew damn well Carson was powerless to resist. Carson heaved a huge sigh and patted him on the shoulder.

"Fiiiiiiine," he said. "I'll come, but only for you."

Kurt clasped his hands and leapt up, hugging Carson tightly. "Thank you!" he said, bring one hand up to ruffle Carson's hair. "Best brother ever."

"Yeah, yeah, the things I do for you. You are SO lucky I love you."

* * *

_Seriously,_ thought Carson the next day as he sat in the bleachers of the gym waiting for the pep assembly to start. _He is SO lucky I love him. This is my worst fucking nightmare, sitting here among all these people I loathe and despise, especially all those jock assholes down there_. He glared down to where he could see Noah Puckerman and the rest of the jerk brigade arm wrestling with each other._Idiots._

He barely paid any attention to Principal Figgins' speech, or to Mr. Schuester's introduction. He was too busy picturing a locker stuffed with severed jock heads. _Is that creepy? Nah, that's not creepy. They'd deserve it._He was snapped back to reality, however, as soon as the curtain rose on the stage and the six members of New Directions started singing "Push It."

It was...well...it was quite an experience.

_Oh god, Rachel Berry is thrusting into the air. She's THRUSTING into the air. That is so disgusting, I can't even. Eeew, Finn, no one wants to watch you run your fingers down your...holy shit, KURT. Kurt, what the hell, that's...that's actually...I'll be damned, that's pretty sexy. Jesus Christ. Is it weird to think your own twin brother is sexy? Oh, well, I don't...don't care...seriously, though, he's fucking HOT. Go, Kurtsie. You're certainly the only one actually bringing the sexy in this performance, that's for...oh my GOD, did he just smack Finn on the ass? HE DID. HE TOTALLY JUST SMACKED FINN HUDSON ON THE GODDAMN ASS. What the fuck. That's so gross. No, Kurt, no. Bad! Your hands are too good to be touching his ass. God. Eeeew, oh my god, Rachel, PLEASE stop fanning your crotch...KURT, fuck, who the hell knew you could move your hips like that? No, seriously, where did you learn how to...how to move like...okay, wow, seriously what...EEEEEEW FINN AND RACHEL ARE MAKING ME SICK, is this almost over? Oh, ok...it's over. That was...that was just..._

He wasn't sure what to do when the performance was over. Apparently, neither did anyone else. Jacob Ben Israel, the weird kid who sometimes helped Carson with the_Muckraker_ but mostly spent all his time writing blog posts about the female student population's underwear, was the first to break the silence in the gym with a loud "YESS!" This was apparently all that was needed for the entire gym to erupt in cheers. Cheers. They were CHEERING for the glee club.

_Well, damn,_ Carson thought, getting up from his seat and clapping along with everyone else. _Kurt's gonna be happy, I guess. By the looks of Coach Sylvester, Mr. Schue is probably in a world of trouble, but...that performance was worth it. I'm...I'm gonna have to talk to Kurt about that smacking Finn on the ass thing, though._

He made his way to the gym entrance and waited for Kurt, who exited several minutes later, talking animatedly with Mercedes.

"Carson!" he exclaimed, hugging him excitedly. "Did you see?"

"I saw," said Carson. "It was...it was great! Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," Kurt said with a slight frown. "I'll catch up with you later, Mercedes, ok?" Mercedes nodded and headed down the hallway after Tina and Artie.

"What's up?" Kurt asked as Carson led him outside.

"What was that with you and Finn?" Carson blurted out.

"What do you mean? What thing?"

"Um, the thing where you smacked him on the ass. That thing. What was that?"

Kurt blushed. "I...I kind of couldn't help myself, Carson. It was just there and I took the opportunity, you know?"

Carson crossed his arms. "Well, Finn is gross and you should definitely wash your hands now before you get infected with his moronic germs, or whatever." _Wow, WHAT? That's the best I can come up with? What's wrong with me?_

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Was that all you wanted to tell me?"

Carson hesitated. "...Yes." He couldn't really think of the right words to tell Kurt his performance, minus everyone else, had been sexy as hell without coming across like a creepy pervert.

Kurt sucked in his bottom lip. "But, the performance was good, right?"

Fuck, why does he DO that to me? "Yes, it was awesome," Carson replied. "Although, I'm probably going to have to go home and douse my eyes in bleach to erase the mental image of Finn and Rachel dry-humping onstage in front of the entire student body."

Carson could tell that Kurt was trying to suppress a giggle, but he was unsuccessful.

"Haha, I got you to smile," he teased, bopping Kurt lightly on the arm.

"Shut up," Kurt retorted, the smile still on his lips. "I just hope we got interest from enough people to fill out the club and qualify for sectionals now."

And with those words, a seed of an idea implanted itself in Carson's brain.

* * *

"See, Grandma, the thing is, if I joined glee club, it would be really good for Kurt. Because I still don't know why Finn is in that club exactly, and I don't trust him or his friends after all the crap they've put Kurt through in the past. If I'm in glee with him, then I can be sure that they leave him alone. You know?"

Carson looked at his grandmother, not really expecting much of a substantial answer, but feeling oddly liberated at being able to talk about this with _someone,_even if they wouldn't remember it later. Ever since "Push It" and his talk with Kurt that afternoon, an idea had been nagging at his brain, and he couldn't get rid of it. He wondered if he should join the glee club. He was shocked that he was even considering such a thing, because clubs, aside from the literary kind, were definitely NOT his thing. Especially not glee club. Carson hadn't ever really tried to sing before, so he wasn't even sure how good he'd be at it. He figured that even if he joined, he could avoid doing any actual singing.

Still, though. Like he had just said to his grandmother, he could keep an eye on Kurt if he joined. Make sure Finn didn't do anything stupid, like catch on to Kurt's crush and use it to his advantage to get Kurt to do god knows what. Really, being in glee with his brother made perfect sense.

Grandma sighed, staring out of the window of her room. "I used to sing when I was a girl," she said dreamily. "If you like to sing, you'd love a glee club. I have a grandson who likes to sing. His name is Kurt. But he and his brother are just little boys. They won't be joining any glee clubs for a few years yet."

Carson smiled at her. "Thanks, Grandma. I...I think I'm going to join."

She didn't answer him. That was ok. He felt better having at least said it out loud. It helped him convince himself to take the chance.

Which he did, the very next afternoon. He hesitated outside the door of the choir room for a good ten minutes and was about to march inside and demand that Mr. Schuester let him join when he was pushed aside by three members of the McKinley High Cheerio squad. Quinn Fabray, head Cheerio and Finn's girlfriend, led the pack, followed by Brittany Pierce and Santana Lopez, who gave him a disgusted face as she pushed past him.

_Fuck you too, honey_, Carson thought, hanging outside the choir room waiting for them to finish. He heard bits and pieces of the conversation between Quinn and Mr. Schuester floating out into the hallway.

"You may have read about it in the school paper. Finn and I have been an item for awhile now..." she was saying.

_The fuck is she smoking? There hasn't been a goddamn thing about her and Finn in my paper, ever. I don't waste my time with fluff pieces about who's dating who in this glorified cattle farm they call a high school, _thought Carson. He peeked inside the room and watched as the three Cheerios performed what was quite possibly the most boring, vanilla number to "I Say A Little Prayer" that the world had ever been graced with. At long last, they finished and exited the choir room as a pack.

"Excuse you," Quinn huffed, pushing past him and sneering. Santana followed suit, almost knocking him to the ground in the process. _Bitches._

"Great performance," he couldn't resist calling after them. "That almost beat the time I sat and watched a coat of paint dry on the outside of my house. Almost. I think that was more exciting."

"Thanks. You should write about it in your little paper that nobody reads," Santana retorted, giving him one last bitch face before following Quinn and Brittany down the hall. Carson rolled his eyes and entered the choir room.

"I want to join glee club," he blurted out, not giving Mr. Schuester a chance to say anything. "I...I just do."

"You're Kurt's brother, right?" asked Mr. Schue with a smile. Well, that was a stupid question, wasn't it? He and Kurt were identical twins. He felt like saying "No, I'm just a creepy doppelganger who's messing with you for shits and giggles."

"No, I'm just a creepy doppelganger who's messing with you for shits and giggles." Oh, fuck. Guess he really DID say that. "Um..I mean..Carson Hummel. I'd really like to join glee club."

Mr. Schuester looked at him carefully, politely ignoring the doppelganger comment. "Do you sing?"

"Does that matter? You're kind of desperate for new members, aren't you? I understand you need at least twelve to qualify for competitions," Carson replied.

Mr. Schue's smile, to his credit, did not waver. "That's true, but, um...it IS a glee club, after all, Carson. Can you sing something for me real fast? Anything. Anything at all."

Carson sighed. Fine. If he had to sing, he would sing. But he wouldn't make a habit of it. He racked his brain for a song to sing and burst out with the first thing that came to mind.

"_Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream_..."

Mr. Schue's smile tightened. "Thank you, Carson."

"So, am I in, or..what?" Carson asked.

"I..I suppose you are, yes. We meet after school most days, can you make the meetings?"

"Sure can," Carson replied. Feeling generous, he extended his hand to the teacher, who took it and shook it. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

"You're welcome. Welcome to glee club."

Carson hid his smile until he was out of the choir room and heading toward his next class. _Now Kurt and I are in the same club, and plus, it's an extra activity to add to my resume for Northwestern. Win/win. Of course, this means I'll have to be in the same room as Rachel Berry for an hour a day more than necessary, but...I am strong. I can deal. I am Carson Hummel, and am better than pretty much everyone at this school, with the exception of Kurt, who is better than me. And will always be._


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Kurt, don't freak out, but I kind of just joined glee club," announced Carson, striding over to Kurt's locker, where his twin stood checking his reflection in a small mirror attached to the inside of the door. At Carson's words, Kurt looked at him in shock, his eyes wide.

"Glee club? _You_? Why?" he asked. "You hate clubs!"

"Yeah, I know, but this is different," Carson said smoothly. "I really want to do this. For you. You guys need extra members, and performing at sectionals is obviously really important to you. This is me doing my part to help you get something you want." He decided not to mention that the main reason he was joining was because he didn't trust Finn Hudson or his cronies as far as he could throw any of them.

Kurt set his mouth in a line and gave him a searching look. "You don't even sing."

"Like that matters. I highly doubt that I'll be chosen to perform any moving ballads by myself under a soft spotlight or anything. Not with you and Trollberry in the club," replied Carson.

"Yeah, speaking of Rachel, how are you going to handle being around her? _I_ can barely handle being around her for club meetings, and you are far less tolerant than I," said Kurt, giving his hair one final pat and smiling approvingly in his mirror before closing his locker.

"I don't know, I'll carry holy water around with me or something. I'll deal," said Carson, throwing an arm around Kurt and leading him in the direction of their shared fifth period class (Algebra 1, the bane of Carson's existence). "Besides, think how great it will look on that Northwestern application in a couple of years."

"That's true," agreed Kurt. "But still. Are you sure you want to put yourself through this? I mean-"

"I'm sure, Kurt."

Kurt's face slowly spread into a smile. "Ok. Actually, it might be kind of fun to have you around to help me deal with Rachel."

"Right," said Carson. "Power in numbers. Two Hummels are better than one."

It took Carson approximately five minutes into his first glee club meeting to seriously question why the hell he had ever had the brilliant idea to join in the first place. Rachel was going on and on about how she had won her first dance competition as an unborn fetus, and Carson realized, as he was picturing stuffing a dirty sock into her mouth, that he was going to need something to help keep him sane if he was going to do this every day. Like a creative outlet. Or alcohol.

Then he had glanced over at Kurt, who was unconsciously stroking the tips of his own fingers while staring longingly over at Finn, and he remembered why he was doing this. To watch over his brother. Just like he'd promised their mother he would.

_I'm watching you_, he thought, glaring in Finn's direction. _I don't trust you, and I'll be watching you VERY closely._

* * *

"So, why are we wasting a Saturday afternoon driving all the way out to Carmel High, again?" Carson asked as Kurt started their car's engine. "We could have just called this Dakota guy, you know. It's not necessary for us to actually watch a performance by Vocal Heroin or whatever."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's Vocal _Adrenaline_, Carson, and don't you ever pay attention to anything that happens in glee club?"

"No. I'm usually too busy picturing how awesome it would be to sneak into Rachel's room in the middle of the night and rip out her vocal chords."

"Ok, but if you _did_ pay attention, you would know that we're doing this to both check out our competition and to ask Dakota in person so that we make a better first impression on him," said Kurt patiently. "Every little effort helps."

Carson shrugged and turned on the radio, looking for something that didn't make his ears bleed in protest, which most contemporary pop music tended to do. He flipped through all the channels on the satellite radio that had come as a free trial with their car, and found absolutely nothing. He sighed deeply.

"500 radio channels and there's nothing on," he grumbled. "Modern music is shit. Hell, most music of any era is shit. At least, the stuff they tend to overplay is."

"Can we put on the Broadway station?" asked Kurt hopefully.

Carson looked at him warily. "You're really trying to make my afternoon as painful as possible, aren't you?"

"Pleeeeeease?" Kurt pressed.

Carson sighed. "Fine. For you." He flipped the stations until he found the one that played all Broadway hits all the time. The opening notes of "Defying Gravity" filled the car. It was a song even Carson recognized right away, since it was Kurt's favorite and he sang it all the time.

"Ooooh, my song!" Kurt exclaimed, wiggling around in his seat in excitement. He started singing along, giving Idina Menzel a run for her money by singing it even more beautifully than she did. Carson smiled to himself. He may not have shared Kurt's passion for _Wicked_ (or any musical, really), but he was always more than happy to listen to him sing. By the time the song ended, they were pulling into the driveway of Rachel's house, where Rachel stood waiting, clutching her purse to her side and turning her head in different directions, as though she were modeling for a catalog. The Sears catalog, Carson guessed, judging by that horrible "Overgrown 8 year old" outfit she had on. She stopped as soon as she spotted them, walking over and opening the door to the backseat.

"Hello, boys," she said, climbing inside and shutting the door behind her. "I trust we're all prepared to scope out our competition?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," replied Kurt.

"I just hope Dakota Stanley is willing to take us on. His schedule must be very busy with Vocal Adrenaline, but we really need him if we have any chance at all of beating them at sectionals," Rachel continued. "I don't know what we'll do if...oh, is that _Barbra_?" she asked excitedly. Carson had no idea what the hell she was talking about until he realized that the radio was still on and tuned to the Broadway channel. Fuuuuck.

"I love this song!" Rachel exclaimed, beginning to sing along and making those god-awful scrunched up faces she always made whenever she got really into her singing. Which was always. It took incredible willpower, but Carson managed to suppress the urge to open the car door and jump right out.

They stopped again to pick up Tina, and then one more time to pick up Mercedes (Finn, to Carson's extreme relief, was unable to accompany them on this little excursion). Mercedes practically sprinted into the backseat next to Tina.

"Hi, guys!" she said animatedly. "Kurt," she added, flashing him a wide smile. "You...you look good today."

"Why, thank you, Mercedes," Kurt answered, smiling at her in the rearview mirror. "You look quite fabulous yourself."

Mercedes practically glowed. "Thanks," she breathed. Carson held in a snort. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Mercedes had a crush on Kurt. Carson had suspected as much when he had overheard her ask Kurt the day before if he had ever kissed anyone. Kurt had answered in the negative (which, oddly, had made Carson feel a glimmer of happiness), and Mercedes had promptly started making moon eyes at him. It was pretty amusing, Carson thought. He couldn't blame her in the slightest for having a crush on him (because who in their right mind wouldn't?), but man, she was going to be SO disappointed when she realized that he didn't reciprocate. At all.

After Rachel had screeched her way through ten songs in a row, they arrived at Carmel High (not a moment too soon, as Carson was seriously about to snap) and met up with Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, who had arrived before them.

"Are we even sure they're rehearsing today?" asked Quinn in a bored sounding voice. Carson rolled his eyes. What was it with him being surrounded by idiots who asked the stupidest questions ever? If Vocal Whatever weren't rehearsing that day, would they really be wasting their time driving all the way to the school in the first place?

"Vocal Adrenaline rehearses every day from 2:30 until midnight," replied Rachel knowledgeably. Carson looked on, amused, as Mercedes and Kurt walked with their arms looped together. Apparently, even Rachel and Tina had noticed that something was amiss. Carson watched as they exchanged a look that clearly said "What the hell?" He silently agreed.

"Would you ever wanna hang out?" Mercedes was asking. _Oh man_, thought Carson, reining in the urge to laugh. _Did she just ask him out on a DATE? Oh my god, she's so lucky she's not a guy, because I would hate to have to have the talk with her about her intentions with my baby brother._

"Come over," replied Kurt. "It's Liza Minnelli week on AMC."

_Yes, oh god, PLEASE DO, I could use some free entertainment_, thought Carson gleefully. He supposed he should probably feel like a complete asshole for enjoying Mercedes' obliviousness, but he couldn't help it. This was just too good.

The group stopped short in front of two girls, one of whom was holding back the hair of the other, who was throwing up into a garbage can.

"You can't leave rehearsals for any reason," the non-barfing girl was saying to the other. "That includes heat exhaustion or Crohn's disease!"

_The fuck? What kind of asshole is this Dakota guy, anyway?_ Carson mused. "What if you have a major case of the runs?" he asked out loud. Everybody stared at him in horror, except for Kurt, who was holding in a giggle, and the two girls in front of them, who just looked confused.

"What? It's a legitimate question," he said defensively. "If we're gonna hire this guy, these are things we should know!"

Rachel glared at him before walking over to the girls, a smile plastered on her face. "Are you guys Vocal Adrenaline? We'd like to talk to Dakota Stanley about choreographing for our glee club."

"DON'T!" the barfing girl exclaimed, looking up from her garbage can miserably. "He's a monster!"

After said "monster" informed them later that day that his fee was $8,000 per number, Carson decided he agreed with Barfing Girl's sentiment. He wasn't quite sure how a car wash, Rachel's oh-so-brilliant idea, was going to net them that much money, but he didn't really care.

"So, Mercedes totally has the hots for you," he announced to Kurt after they had finished dropping everyone off at their houses that night. "Just in case you didn't notice her heart eyes just now when you invited her to that sing along _Sound of Music_ thing next weekend."

Kurt looked at him quizzically. "What are you talking about? No, she doesn't."

"Um, yes. Yes, she does."

"She does not!"

"She does too."

"She does not! She's my friend," Kurt argued, not sounding quite as sure now.

"She's your friend who wants to have your babies," replied Carson. "Did you not notice the way she was clinging to you today? It was so adorable I almost threw up, just like that chick outside the school."

Kurt was silent for a minute. "Crap," he said finally.

"Exactly," said Carson, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Oh, how I don't envy you. You're going to have to let her down eventually."

"...CRAP."

"Mercedes and Kurtsie, sitting in a tree," Carson chanted gleefully as Kurt glared at him. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

"Oh, shut up," Kurt snapped at him. "It's so not funny."

"Yeah, it kind of is," Carson argued. "And adorable. Did I mention adorable?"

"You're the worst," muttered Kurt, crossing his arms.

"It's only so cute because she's not a handsome guy trying to sweep you off your feet, otherwise I would totally be having a talk with her right now about keeping her hands to herself," said Carson, grinning now. "Or else."

"You suck!" whined Kurt.

"Naaaah, you love me," said Carson.

"Be that as it may," replied Kurt, "you, Carson Phillip Hummel, still suck."

Carson's grin grew bigger. Even in the dark car, he could see that Kurt was smiling, too.

* * *

Carson almost didn't attend the car wash, insisting that there was no way in hell that he was going to spend the day lathering soap on rich people's stupid cars so that they could hire the same choreographer who was working with their competition.

"You're going, Carson," Kurt ordered. "You're a part of this glee club too, you know."

"I'm not going and you can't make me," Carson replied calmly, scribbling away at his notebook from his perch against the headboard of their bed.

"Really?" Kurt asked. "I beg to differ, honey. We both know that all I have to do is give you the Depressed Puppy face and you are putty in my hands. You'll do anything I ask you to."

"Not true," said Carson, refusing to look up from his notebook because he knew damn well Kurt was absolutely right.

"Oh, I think it is," said Kurt. Carson could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"Is not."

"Ok, then look at me," said Kurt. "Just glance up. Just for a second. Come on. Look, here I go. I'm making the face. Look how cute I am doing that."

"No."

"Aaaw, what's the matter, Carsey? Afraid you'll be powerless to resist me?" Kurt teased. He got down on his knees beside the bed and leaned his crossed arms on it, resting his head against them. "Come on, I don't want to wash cars all day without you there. It'll be so boring!"

Carson sighed and looked over at him. Kurt's brow was furrowed and he was biting his bottom lip, just the way he knew Carson was too weak to resist. _Fuck._

"That is so unfair, you know," he said, putting his notebook back in the nightstand as Kurt's face instantly broke into a bright smile. "Using my one weakness against me. That's dirty fighting, and I really shouldn't give in to you like this."'

"Mmm-hmm. You shouldn't. But you are," hummed Kurt, grabbing Carson's hand and practically dragging him up the stairs. "Come on!"

So, that was how Carson found himself spending a perfectly good weekend afternoon surrounded by expensive cars that he was only pretending to wash. Bored was an extreme understatement to describe his mood, but he managed to amuse himself by occasionally stopping to watch Mercedes flirt with Kurt, who in turn was desperately pretending not to notice. Carson felt bad for him, but he was happy that it was at least distracting his brother's attention away from Finn. Carson didn't like Kurt's attention being on Finn.

He focused back on the car he was currently "washing" and was so caught up in thinking about his own boredom that the sound of breaking glass did not immediately register with him. Kurt's raised voice, however, did.

"You busted my window! How could you do that? You _busted_ my _window_!" he was saying to an angry looking Mercedes as Carson turned to look in their direction.

"Well, you busted my heart!" Mercedes retorted, stalking off. It took Carson a second to figure out what the hell had just happened, until he noticed that the windshield of his and Kurt's car was now sporting a gigantic hole from where he assumed Mercedes had just thrown something at it.

_What the fuck?_ he thought as he swiftly made his way over to where Kurt still stood beside the damaged car, looking shocked and confused.

"Ok, what the HELL just happened?" he demanded, surveying the ruined windshield and seething with anger. What the fuck was Mercedes' problem?

"She...she just took a rock and...went for it," Kurt answered, his eyes never leaving the shattered glass.

"WHY?" asked Carson, silently vowing to murder Mercedes the next time he saw her.

"Well, um.." Kurt said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "She asked me if we could make it official that we're dating."

"Oh my GOD, and what did you say?"

"I may have told her that I'm in love with Rachel."

Carson froze in horror. "You told her WHAT?"

"Well, I meant FINN, and Rachel was standing there too, and Mercedes just assumed. I...I suddenly didn't want to correct her," Kurt babbled, his voice becoming smaller and smaller. "Because.."

"I know," Carson said, squeezing Kurt's hand reassuringly. "I know why you did it. But...Rachel? Really? RACHEL?"

"Trust me, I can't believe I said it, either," Kurt mumbled. "What are we going to do about the car? A new windshield is going to be expensive as hell!"

"Oh, that girl is going to pay for the damage SHE caused," Carson said, his jaw set. "There's no fucking way she's not. I will make her life a living hell if she doesn't. She seems to not have realized that this is MY car, too." He shook his head in disgust at the situation and opened the car door, gingerly picking up pieces of glass. "We should probably get out of here and see about having Dad fix this if he's not busy," he said. "You sit in the back, ok? There's no glass back there."

Kurt didn't say anything, just silently slid into the backseat and looked glumly out the window. Carson brushed away the last of the glass fragments from the driver's seat, told Rachel (as briefly as possible) where they were going, and got behind the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of a single tear rolling down Kurt's cheek.

Yeah, he was so going to kill Mercedes.

* * *

Ok, maybe he wasn't going to actually_ kill_ her, but he sure did his best to be as cold to her as possible over the next few days. He stuck by Kurt's side even more than usual, and any time it looked as though Mercedes was going to come up and try to say something, he made sure to give her his iciest glare so that she was too uncomfortable to do it. He was so caught up in being pissed at her, he didn't even have the energy to gloat and say "I knew it!" when Dakota Stanley turned out to be a world class asshole whom they fired after all of five minutes.

At least she had apologized to both of them and paid for the damage. Or rather, her father had paid. So there was that. Still, though. She was officially on Carson's shit list. Especially after what happened several days after the car wash incident, when he came home much later than usual (it had been a rough afternoon in the journalism classroom trying to make some last minute changes to that week's Muckraker, and then, of course he had gone to the assisted living home). He entered the house, tired as hell, and found Kurt slumped on the couch in the living room, flipping through the channels on the TV and looking extremely depressed. Carson set his bag aside and flopped down next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked him.

"Nothing's wrong," Kurt replied.

"Yes, there is," Carson said. "I can tell. Come on, what's got my Kurtsie so upset?"

Kurt sighed. "It's Mercedes."

Carson's eyes narrowed. "Oh my god, what the hell did she do THIS time? I will bury that girl alive, I swear."

"No, it's not anything she _did_, it's just...it's just something she said, but I don't want to talk about it," said Kurt.

Carson looked closer at Kurt's face. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears that Carson hadn't noticed at first, and his eyes were shining.

"Have you been crying?" he asked.

"No," Kurt lied.

"Yes, you have. Come on, Kurt, what the hell did that girl say to you?" Carson asked, taking Kurt's hand and gently running his thumb over the soft skin.

"She said..." Kurt began, hesitating as he leaned his head against the back of the couch and looked intently at the ceiling. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "She apologized for the car again, and I told her that I lied..you know..about liking Rachel, and I actually...I came out to her."

"Oh, Kurt," said Carson sympathetically, patting his shoulder with the hand that wasn't caressing Kurt's thumb. "What did she say when you told her?"

"She said that I needed to just tell everybody, especially the other glee kids," Kurt said quietly, a fresh tear streaming down his face. "That's what's bothering me. I don't want to do that. I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, and she thinks I should just walk up to people and be like "Hi, I'm gay!" he continued miserably.

"What the hell does she know?" Carson asked, more pissed at Mercedes than ever. "Is SHE the one who has to do that? She should just shut the fuck up about things she doesn't understand."

"I don't know...I just feel like I'm some kind of coward because I don't have the confidence to come out yet or something," said Kurt, resting his head on Carson's shoulder as Carson put his arm around him.

"Hey, none of that," Carson said softly, bringing his hand up to stroke through Kurt's hair. "Listen to me. Just because you choose not to come out yet to everybody, that doesn't mean you're not brave, or that you don't have confidence. You're brave enough to be yourself without trying to conform to everybody else, aren't you?"

"I guess," Kurt murmured.

"There's no need to rush yourself into anything," Carson continued, feeling Kurt take a shuddering breath against him. "This is something that you have to do on your own time. Not anyone else's. Yours."

Kurt nodded, dropping his head lower on Carson's shoulder and sighing. "I'm tired."

Carson let out a small laugh. "Me too. Come on, let's go downstairs for the night." He got up off the couch and held out his hands to Kurt, pulling him up as well.

"Too exhausted," Kurt mumbled, wrapping his arms around Carson's neck from behind. "Carry me?"

"As you wish," replied Carson, reaching for Kurt's legs and wrapping them around his waist so that he was carrying him on his back, piggyback style. It was something he'd been doing since they were kids, and Kurt had always loved it. Kurt let out a happy sigh and pressed a kiss to Carson's hair. "You're awesome," he said.

"Naaah, you are," said Carson, starting for the stairs.

* * *

"I'm trying out for the football team today," Kurt announced one morning before school. Their dad had already left for work. Carson, for once, had nothing to go into school early for and was seated at the kitchen table making his way through a giant bowl of Lucky Charms, which he practically choked on when he heard Kurt's words.

"I'm sorry, is it April 1st already and I missed the memo?" he asked when he had caught his breath. "Because this is a joke, right? You HATE football. You hate any kind of sport!"

"I know, but I kind of have no choice," Kurt insisted, sitting across from Carson at the table. "Dad came home early the other day and caught me practicing "Single Ladies" with Tina and Brittany, and one thing led to another, and now he thinks that I'm the new kicker for the Titans," he said in a rush.

Carson looked at him, confused. "Wait, how did things go from "Single Ladies" to football?"

"That doesn't matter!" Kurt exclaimed, frustrated. "The point is, he thinks I'm on the team, and I'm not, obviously, but I have to be, because he wants to see my first game!"

"Why don't you just tell him the truth?" asked Carson sensibly, getting up and rinsing his bowl out in the sink.

"I just...I just can't," said Kurt, something clearly weighing on his mind. "So I asked Finn yesterday if he could get me a tryout, and he did. It's today after school. Finn and I are going to practice my kicking technique at lunch."

Carson's eyes narrowed as he stared at Kurt. "This whole crazy idea isn't just because of Finn, is it?" he asked him. "Because, in addition to the fact that you hate football, that team is full of assholes who have tormented you and made your life hell for as long as you've been going to McKinley. And yet you're actually willing to place yourself among them on a daily basis?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, Carson, it's not because of Finn, it's just...it's just something that I need to do."

"Right, I get that, but _why_?" Carson pressed. "You know you can tell me anything."

Kurt was quiet for a minute. "I feel like maybe, if I do this, then I'll finally have done something that Dad will be really proud of me for," he said at last.

"What?" Carson asked, surprised. "What are you talking about? He's already proud of you. He's proud of both of us. He says so all the time."

"Yeah, but this is something we can bond over. Something we can have in common," said Kurt.

Carson gave him a hard look. "But, do YOU want to do this? That's the most important thing."

"Yeah, I do."

"Ok," said Carson. "If this is really what you want to do, you should go for it."

"Will you come to my tryout?" Kurt asked. "I know you have to work on the paper today, but I'll help you with it later if you come watch me."

"That depends, are you going to pout and bite your lip if I say no?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then I'll go," said Carson. "I would have gone anyway. You know that," he said, bopping Kurt playfully on the arm.

"Watch it, this is a new shirt," said Kurt, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. "Now come on, or we'll be late for homeroom."

* * *

"Gentlemen, we have found ourselves a kicker!" Carson heard Coach Tanaka yelling from the field later that afternoon. Damn straight they had found a new kicker. Carson didn't really even know the first thing about football, but he did know that he had just witnessed Kurt demonstrating an extremely impressive kicking skill that rivaled anyone's he had ever seen.

He also knew a couple of other things. He knew that watching Kurt do his "Single Ladies" dance before the actual kicking made his stomach do weird things, and he knew that seeing him talk to Finn on the field made him feel a surge of...something. Not jealousy, exactly. Maybe more like protectiveness? Like Carson was the mother bear and Kurt was his cub. Yeah. Yeah, that was it.

It wasn't jealousy. Not at all. It wasn't jealousy when he felt it as he watched Kurt and Finn practice that "Single Ladies" dance in the choir room at lunch, either.

Nope.

Whatever it was, Carson didn't have time to think about it anymore, because he was too busy running down from the bleachers to go hug Kurt. He was so damn proud of him right now.

Not nearly as proud as he was the following Friday night, though, as he and his dad sat in those very same bleachers watching Kurt's first game unfold. Football may as well have been a foreign language to Carson, because all he could make out was that there was a lot of movement and shoving and running. None of which was at all appealing. He didn't know Kurt stood it. Kurt himself spotted them sitting up there and Carson could see the smile radiate on his face even from all the way across that field.

"I told you! I told you!" he was shouting excitedly, jumping up and down and waving at them. Burt gave him a wave back, while Carson grinned from ear to ear and waved both arms. Kurt smiled back and then began kicking the air animatedly.

_Yep, that's my Kurtsie, alright_, thought Carson adoringly.

The game went on and on, none of it really interesting Carson very much, even though he tried to pay attention. The only thing he really understood was when Finn called a time out, followed by half the team beginning to dance Kurt's "Single Ladies" dance.

"I can't believe they let him teach them that dance," Carson said to his father, watching in shock as the performance on the field went on.

"Yeah, me either," replied Burt, looking confused as to what exactly he was watching.

Carson was about to reply, but was distracted by the sight of Kurt walking back onto the field, deep in concentration. He must have been about to kick, Carson assumed. He was right. Kurt snapped his fingers, and "Single Ladies" filled the air once again as Kurt stepped right into the dance. He approached the ball in front of him and considered it for a second before rearing his foot back and giving it a good, hard kick, sending it sailing out of sight.

Apparently, this was a very good thing, because the crowd went nuts with cheers, Burt included. Kurt was lifted into the air by his teammates, looking prouder than Carson had ever seen him. _They better not drop him,_ Carson thought as he cheered along with the crowd.

"You were so great tonight," he said later that night, sitting on the edge of their bed as he watched Kurt perform his nightly facial routine.

"Thanks," Kurt said happily. "I was so nervous, though. I still can't believe I did that!"

"Well, believe it, because you did," said Carson, smiling at him through the mirror. "That was, by far, the most impressive kick I have ever seen."

Kurt snorted. "Exactly how many _have_ you seen?"

"Shut up and take the compliment," retorted Carson, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Kurt was about to say something, but they were interrupted by the sound of Burt's footsteps coming down the stairs. He entered the room slowly, looking like he didn't quite know what to say. Carson looked over at Kurt, who was looking at their dad through the mirror.

"Nighttime skin care is a big part of my post-game ritual," Kurt said quietly.

"I don't know what to say about that," their father replied, "but, uh...I was really proud of you tonight, Kurt. I wish your mom would have been there. I mean...alive."

Carson looked down at his hands at the mention of their mother. She would certainly have been so proud of Kurt, he knew.

"Thanks," Kurt said. Burt nodded and turned to go back up the stairs, but stopped in his tracks as Kurt called out, "Dad?"

Burt turned around. Kurt got up from his seat in front of the mirror and turned to face him. "I have something I want to say."

Carson looked between them and wondered if he should leave the room. It seemed like this was going to be a serious father-son bonding moment, and he didn't want to interrupt. As though Kurt read his mind (which he very well might have- twin telepathy and all), he caught Carson's eye and gave him a look that clearly said "No, stay. I need you here with me."

So he stayed.

"I'm glad that you're proud of me," Kurt continued, turning his attention back to their father. "But I don't want to lie anymore. Being a part of the glee club and football has really showed me that I can be anything. And what I am is..."

Carson suddenly realized exactly what Kurt was going to say and looked at him nervously, attempting to send him all the good vibes he was capable of sending, if such a thing were even possible.

"I'm gay," Kurt finished, letting out a big breath. Carson looked from him to their father in silence, waiting for their dad to say something. Anything.

"I know," Burt replied after a minute.

"...Really?" asked Kurt.

"I've known since you were three," Burt continued. "All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels."

Carson suppressed a laugh at the memory of a much younger Kurt happily spending hours playing dressup in their mother's old shoes. There was a faded photograph in one of the family albums in the living room to commemorate it. Even back then, Kurt had been the most adorable thing.

"I guess I'm not totally in love with the idea, but if that's who you are, there's nothing I can do about it. And I love you just as much," Burt said, clapping one hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Okay?"

Kurt's only answer was to fold their father into a huge hug. Carson smiled at the pair of them, happy that Kurt had at last found the confidence to come out to someone besides Mercedes.

"Thanks for telling me, Kurt," Burt said, breaking from the hug and preparing to go back upstairs. He turned back around before he started up them and looked at Kurt again. "You're sure, right?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm sure," Kurt replied, looking back into his mirror.

"Just checking," said Burt. "Good nght, boys."

"Good night, Dad," Kurt and Carson replied at the same time, as Burt headed back up the stairs.

They didn't speak after their dad left. They didn't need to. They both knew what the other was thinking. Kurt was silently thanking Carson for staying by for moral support, and Carson was thinking how proud he was of his brother's bravery.

But just to be safe, he made sure to hug Kurt close to him as they drifted off to sleep. He hoped maybe all his pride would seep through his touch and wash over Kurt.

* * *

Carson removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Honestly, he appreciated the fact that Jacob Ben Israel was eager to help with the Muckraker, even if he was weird as hell and reminded Carson of a creepy pervert who lured people into the back of his windowless van.

However, he was not so desperate for help that he would resort to accepting stories about Rachel Berry starring in the school's production of _Cabaret. _

"Jacob, let me level with you," he said with as much patience as he could muster, considering that he had been at work on this issue of the paper all day, even skipping all his classes to stay in the journalism classroom. Practically nobody but Kurt would look for him there, he knew, because most people avoided that classroom like the plague. "Nobody except Rachel Berry is going to be interested in an article about Rachel Berry. And I know not a lot of students read this paper anyway, but still...it goes against everything I believe in and stand for to publish articles about Rachel Berry."

"Even if we add in something about her bra?" asked Jacob.

Carson gave him a disgusted face. "_Especially_ not then! Eeew, god, why the fuck did you just mention Rachel's underwear to me? Are you trying to make me sick?"

"Maybe nobody reads the paper because you don't publish _enough_ articles about underwear," suggested Jacob.

Carson glared at him for a long minute. "Jacob...get out of my classroom." Jacob obeyed, thankfully, or else Carson was sure he would have started throwing things.

_Honestly_, he thought. _I don't know why I even bother._

He launched back into his work assembling the layout of the next issue, not noticing or caring how much time had gone by until there was a sharp knock at the door. He looked up to find none other than Finn Hudson standing there, looking through the window in the door and looking as befuddled and confused as he always did.

"What is it, Finn?" he called out, gesturing for the other boy to enter the room. Finn opened the door and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Um, the school nurse sent me to get you, dude," he said. "There's something wrong with Kurt, and I guess they couldn't get a hold of your dad, so..."

"WHAT? Kurt? What's wrong with him? Is he ok?" Carson asked quickly, getting up and reaching for his bag. "Is he hurt?"

"What..no, I think he's just sick," replied Finn. "They probably want you to take him home or whatever."

Carson didn't reply, just closed the lights of the classroom and made his way as fast as possible to the nurse's office. He arrived, out of breath, to find Kurt stretched out on a cot, looking miserable and unkempt, his hair askew and his shirt half unbuttoned. The faint scent of vomit filled the air.

"Kurt? What happened?" he asked, rushing over to his brother and feeling his forehead. "You don't feel feverish or anything."

"That's because he's not sick, he's drunk," the school nurse replied from behind him in a bored voice. "He threw up all over Miss Pillsbury, who just barely managed to escort him over here before running screaming from the building."

"Drunk?" Carson asked incredulously. "How is that possible? He doesn't even drink."

"Carseeeeey!" exclaimed Kurt, sitting up and looking at him with squinted eyed, as though he had just realized that he was there. "I do...do...I do too drink. I dunno what that stuff was that April gave me, but it was deli...delic...felicious...it was good. Good stuff. Uuuugh, but now I don't feel well," he added, playing absentmindedly with one of the buttons of his shirt. "Feel siiiiick."

Of course. April Rhodes. The former McKinley student Mr. Schuester had stupidly brought in to replace Rachel after her hissy fit. That woman was always carrying alcohol around. She must have given quite a bit to Kurt, judging by the state of his brother at the moment. "Yep, you're drunk," said Carson, shaking his head.

"You're hot," Kurt replied under his breath, flopping back onto his cot.

What? Carson looked at him, horrified. He could feel his cheeks turning red and hoped that the nurse hadn't heard Kurt. Apparently, she hadn't.

"I tried to get in touch with your father, but there was no answer. Do you think you could make sure your brother gets home?" she asked. "Preferably soon, before the vomit smell permeates the entire office?"

"It's an infirmary, I would think vomit smell is something you're used to," Carson said. Her only answer was to stare blankly at him.

"Yeah, yeah, ok." He gently eased Kurt into a sitting position and looked him in the eye. "Kurt...Kurt, look at me..KURT...ok..can you walk?"

A frown passed over Kurt's delicate features. "O'course I can walk, Carfshon, I'm not..not a baby."

_Jesus, how much did he drink?_ Carson wondered as he helped Kurt stand up, keeping one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulder. He led him out of the nurse's office and out to the parking lot, where he carefully loaded him into the backseat and buckled him in.

"Try not to barf on the seats, ok Kurtsie?" he said lightly, before getting behind the wheel and starting for home. Kurt hummed under his breath the entire way, a song Carson couldn't place at first, but which he eventually realized was the theme song to _Full House._

At long last, he arrived home, carefully extracting Kurt from the backseat. Kurt had essentially turned into dead weight over the course of the drive, and Carson had a somewhat difficult time transporting him, especially since Kurt stumbled more often than he walked. By some miracle, he managed to get Kurt down to their bedroom, where he deposited him carefully onto the bed. Kurt instantly curled into a ball and closed his eyes.

"Kurt, come on, we have to get you cleaned up," said Carson, trying to rouse him.

"No. Wanna sleep."

"But-"

"NO."

Carson sighed. He figured there was no use in trying to clean him up right now when he was being like this. Not until he had sobered up a bit and wasn't in danger of being sick anymore. He could always wash their bedding later. Kurt would be fine until then.

"Caaarsooon," Kurt groaned as Carson started to take off his shoes for him so that he'd at least be somewhat comfortable. "Come lay with meeeee." He made what Carson assumed was supposed to be grabby hands, but which turned out to be more of a pathetic flailing of his arms. "Don't wanna sleep by myself!"

"Ok, ok," Carson said soothingly, climbing onto the bed beside him. Kurt snuggled up next to him, wrapping his arms around his waist. The smell of dried vomit invaded Carson's nostrils, but he didn't really mind.

"You feel good," Kurt murmured through his half-asleep haze. "You're soft. Why are you so soft?"

Carson smiled at him. "I...thanks?"

"Looove you," Kurt whispered, wrinkling his nose adorably. Somehow, Kurt managed to be cute as a button even when drunk off his ass.

"Go to sleep, Kurtsie. Sleep it off," Carson said softly, stroking his fingers through Kurt's hair. "And I love you, too."

Kurt didn't answer him. His eyes had closed and he was already asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: My co-author and I are thrilled to pieces that people seem to be enjoying this story. We read all the reviews and we appreciate every last one of them. You guys give us the warm fuzzies. **

"One, two three, four, five, six, seven..." Rachel was saying as she led the glee club through some stupid choreography she had come up with for them to try. Everyone was trying it except for Carson, who was not about to take any kind of orders from Rachel. Besides, he was more than content to just sit back in his seat and watch Kurt dance.

"Good news, guys!" announced Mr. Schue, barging into the choir room brandishing a piece of paper. "I just got the competition bracket for sectionals, and we are in really good shape! There's only two other teams. If we beat them, we make it to regionals."

"Who are the other teams?" asked Rachel eagerly as everyone else high-fived each other behind her.

"Drumroll please, Finn!" said Mr. Schue. Carson rolled his eyes. Mr. Schue was always asking Finn for a drumroll before he made any kind of announcement. Frankly, it was starting to get on Carson's last nerve. Was it really necessary? Couldn't Mr. Schue ever just say what he needed to say without asking Frankenteen to pound those fucking drums first? He wondered what would ever happen if Finn was out sick (one could only hope) and there was an important announcement to be made. Carson imagined Mr. Schue pulling a sad face and saying that he would love to tell the club some super awesome news, but he can't, because there's nobody to provide a drumroll.

Carson was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of said drumroll, which made him grit his teeth. He really hated those drums. And Finn.

"School for the Deaf in Dayton, and some place called Jane Adams Academy," answered Mr. Schue.

"Jane Adams? That's a halfway house for girls just getting out of juvie," Mercedes said happily.

"Th-th-this is great!" stuttered Tina.

"People who can't hear what they're singing, and criminals who don't care. It's gonna be a cakewalk!" said Artie.

Carson had to fight the urge to get up and slap all of them. That was no attitude to have if they wanted to win. _Don't they know anything?_ he thought. _The secret to winning shit is to never underestimate your competition. Ugh, that was such a Rachel thing to say, though. I'm ashamed of myself right now._ Whatever. If the club wanted to slack off and lose sectionals, it was their decision.

"Hey," Kurt said to him as he followed him out into the hall when glee let out that day. "Mercedes and I had planned to go see _Paranormal Activity_ tonight, since tomorrow is a teacher's workshop day. Do you want to come with us?

"Why would you go see that? You hate horror movies," said Carson as he stopped at his locker.

"Yeah, I know, that's why I'm asking you to come with," replied Kurt. "Horror movies freak me out, and if you're there you will undoubtedly start snarking on everything that happens onscreen, which will calm me down."

"Is that OK with Mercedes?"

"Hmm?...oh, yeah. Now that she's reasonably certain that you're not going to come after her with an ax over what she did to our car, she's fine with it," replied Kurt.

Carson considered the offer. On the one hand, he didn't really enjoy going to the movies all that much. Especially not a movie that was probably going to be packed with inconsiderate teenagers who kept checking their phones every five minutes and filling the theater with their stupid bright screens. On the other hand, Kurt was right. He _did_ get freaked out easily by horror movies. And when he did, he usually got extremely clingy, and when he got clingy he clung to Carson.

Carson decided that he kind of really wanted this to happen. He wasn't sure why. He just knew that he did.

"Ok. I'll come along," he agreed, grabbing books out of his locker and placing them into his bag.

"Great!" said Kurt, a smile lighting up his face like a Christmas tree.

Carson wasn't sure why the sight of that smile did weird things to his insides, either.

He met up with Kurt and Mercedes outside the movie theater later that day, just as the sun was beginning to set. He was in a relatively good mood, for once. It had been a rather pleasant visit with Grandma that afternoon (she had talked to him at length about the time she taught "her twin grandsons" how to swim, which made Carson smile fondly at the memory), and now he was ready to at least try to have fun. As much as he was capable of such a thing, anyway.

He spotted Kurt talking animatedly with Mercedes against the concrete wall adorned with movie posters, his back to Carson. Carson caught Mercedes' eye and put his finger to his lips, asking her to keep quiet as he snuck up behind his brother. He reached him quickly, reaching in front of Kurt's face to place his hands over his eyes.

"Guess who," he said playfully.

"Hmmm," Kurt muttered, pretending to think it over. "Johnny Depp?"

"Eeew, no," Carson replied. "Someone way better."

"Gerard Butler?"

"Nope, better. Try again."

"...Carson?" Kurt said at last, as Mercedes laughed.

"Yep, that's the one," said Carson, removing his hands from Kurt's eyes and wrapping his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder.

"You're right. Much better than Johnny or Gerard," said Kurt. "Here's your ticket. Show starts in five."

"Great," said Carson, taking it. "Let's go then."

The movie, as Carson predicted, was pretty lame. He could tell that it was creeping Kurt out, though, so he both amused himself and relaxed Kurt's nerves by pointing out, in whispers, how lame it really was.

"Look at the size of that house," he said, leaning over to Kurt and whispering in his ear. "How the hell do they afford it? They're both in their early 20s, and one of them doesn't even work! This movie really should be taking place in a studio apartment." A smile spread across Kurt's face and he visibly relaxed.

"And what the hell is the boyfriend's problem?" Carson said a bit later. "What kind of douchebag wouldn't let his girlfriend call the demonologist when this is clearly a situation in which their assistance is needed? I don't understand why she doesn't tell him to go fuck himself."

Kurt snorted, his hand coming up to his mouth to stifle his giggle. "Yeah," he said. "There's no way that I would ever-AAAH!" he squeaked as a door slammed loudly by itself on the screen. He jerked in his seat and turned to Carson to bury his face in his shoulder.

"Tell me when it's over," he said, his breath warm against Carson's neck. Wow. That...that felt...nice.

"It's over," Carson said regretfully as the scene changed.

Maybe it was Carson's imagination, but it seemed as though Kurt took his time removing himself from his twin.

* * *

"Competition!" Mr. Schue said excitedly, gesturing toward a bulletin board in the middle of the choir room, onto which he had attached pictures of various people and things that were supposed to help the kids understand whatever the hell the point was that he was trying to make. "Every one of these people or elements was a champion in their own right, but they used competing with each other to make themselves even better."

Carson examined the bulletin board thoughtfully. He could _kind of _see Mr. Schue's thought process there, but some of his examples were just really stupid. _Lightning and a swimming pool? What the hell? How the fuck are those two things in competition with each other? And if they are, how does that make either of them better? Does lightning really need to get any better? I mean, it's lightning._

He was about to open his mouth and say exactly this when Kurt spoke up. "I don't understand how lightning is in competition with an above ground swimming pool," Kurt mused out loud. Carson smiled to himself. _That's my twin, alright_, he thought proudly.

Mr. Schue looked confused, which Carson wasn't all that surprised by. It wasn't difficult to confuse him, apparently. "Just go with it," he said impatiently. "You guys have become complacent. You were great at the invitational, but you gotta up your game if you want to get through sectionals."

_Well, fuck me_, thought Carson. _We actually agree on something. Feels weird_.

"Ok, split up," Mr. Schue said. "Guys on the left side, girls on the right side...let's go, come on!" he added when nobody moved.

Reluctantly, the club began to split up into their assigned sides. Kurt took a look around at the boys group and, apparently not liking what he saw, started toward the other side of the room to join the girls. Not that Carson could blame him, really. Even if he _was_ leaving Carson to deal with the lot of them by himself.

"Kurt?" Mr. Schue said, nodding pointedly over to the boys' side. Kurt looked uncomfortable, but did as he was told, rejoining the boys with his eyes cast downward. Carson felt a surge of anger toward Mr. Schue. Why the hell couldn't Kurt team up with whoever he wanted? Why were they being segregated by gender, anyway?

"Here's the deal," Mr. Schue said. "Two teams. Boys versus girls. One week from today, you will each perform a mashup of your choice."

"What's a mashup?" asked Puck stupidly.

Carson missed Mr. Schue's answer because he was still too busy being annoyed with him for forcing Kurt to join a team he wasn't comfortable with. He did catch the part about the winning team choosing the number that they would do for sectionals, which only fueled his annoyance.

"Excuse me," Carson interrupted as Mr. Schue was saying something about a "celebrity judge." _Celebrity judge my ass. I bet it's probably just Miss Pillsbury_. "Why exactly do we need to be segregated by gender for this? Is there a reason why we can't just pick our own teams? Not all of us will work well together just because we happen to have the same body parts."

Mr. Schue looked confused again. _Surprise, surprise_, thought Carson.

"Boys versus girls," he repeated pointedly, not bothering to address Carson's question. Carson locked eyes with Kurt, who shrugged. He suspected that this was going to be a long week.

He was right. The boys' group began work on their mashup in the choir room the next day, since the girls had taken the auditorium. Carson sat in a chair playing with his phone, completely uninterested in the discussion over which songs they should combine together. He really couldn't care less. He was only participating in this mashup crap because he had no choice. He glanced up and frowned as he observed Kurt hanging around Finn, who looked like he was ready to fall over at any moment. Kurt looked worried.

"You should sit, Finn," he insisted, gently guiding him toward the chair beside Carson, where Finn immediately fell asleep and started snoring loudly.

"Well. He snores. Isn't THAT the shock of the century," Carson said, his eyes never leaving his phone. "I would have suspected as much, if I thought about it at all, since he's the size of an ogre. Makes sense he would snore like one."

He didn't look up, but he could feel the look of irritation that Kurt shot his way.

Puck walked up to the sleeping Finn and gingerly poked him in the shoulder. "He's out cold," he said wonderingly.

"Well, he probably doesn't get any sleep, what with worrying over Quinn and the baby and all," replied Kurt, eliciting an uncomfortable look from Puck. Carson thought it was hilarious that nobody had caught on yet that Puck was the real father of that baby, but he figured he would let them all figure it out on their own and see who got it first.

"Dude, we can't let those girls beat us. Come on!" said Puck, jostling Finn's shoulder.

"He's drooling," said Kurt, peering at Finn's face as the other boy's eyes slowly began to open again. Carson snuck a quick glance over and saw that Kurt was absolutely correct. Fucking gross.

"Sure, that sounds good," mumbled Finn.

"Dude, come on. I said we can't let those girls beat us," Puck repeated.

"Sorry. Sometimes when I'm thinking real hard it helps to close my eyes," said Finn groggily.

"That explains why your eyes are wide open most of the time," Carson quipped. Kurt glared at him. "What? It's true," said Carson.

"We're doing a mashup of "It's My Life" and Usher's "Confessions," said Artie, rolling himself toward the group. _We are? _Carson thought. _Huh. Must have zoned out during that discussion, because I totally missed that decision being made. Not that I really give a shit._

"We should get some trash can lids and stomp the yard up in this place," suggested Puck, looking proud of himself. Carson couldn't contain his annoyance.

"You'd know all about trash cans, wouldn't you, Puckerman?" he said sharply. "You know, considering how you're so good at throwing people into them." He gave him a reproachful glare before turning his attention back to his phone. Puck ignored him.

"Puck, with respect, you're more helpful when you _don't_ contribute," said Artie. Kurt ignored all of them, his attention completely on Finn, much to Carson's chagrin. God, who the fuck CARED if Frankenteen wanted to sleep through glee?

At Puck's suggestion, Finn got up and left to go to the nurse's office, leaving the rest of the group to start working on some dance moves that Mike Chang was trying to lead them through. Carson planted himself beside Kurt and tried to focus, he really did, but dancing was so not his thing.

"I feel like an idiot dancing like this," he whispered to Kurt during a break while Mike tried to sort out what wasn't working.

"You look fine, though," replied Kurt.

"Liar."

"Let's put it this way. You look better than Rachel would doing the same dance moves," said Kurt cheekily.

"I don't know whether I should consider that a compliment or not," said Carson with a smile.

Right at that moment, Finn burst back into the choir room, full of energy now and babbling about wanting to do the number and something about a vitamin he got from the school nurse.

"Vitamin D!" he said excitedly, brandishing a box in his hand. "And I got you guys some!" He tossed the box to Puck. Carson grabbed the box out of Puck's hand and looked down at it suspiciously.

"This is decongestant," he said, looking up at Finn.

"So?" asked Finn.

"So you're hopped up on unnecessary meds right now, and you want us all to do the same thing?"

"Yes?" Finn said cautiously. "It would help us perform better, and then we'll beat the girls."

Carson really wished he had a desk to bang his head against right then. What Kurt saw in Finn, he would never understand.

* * *

Despite Carson's objections, the boys went ahead with Finn's ridiculous plan of taking the "vitamins" before their performance the following week. Carson refused, insisting that there was no way he was taking part in such stupidity. He didn't want Kurt to do it either, but he had. Because heaven forbid Kurt go against anything the almighty Finn thought was cool. He was a little surprised that Kurt told the girls about it (he supposed it was because Kurt was insulted that nobody wanted their hair done in cornrows for the performance), but he wasn't a bit surprised that everyone was disqualified and that Coach Sylvester was brought in to co-chair the glee club because Figgins didn't feel that Mr. Schue could handle the job himself.

"I knew this would happen," Carson said after Will had told them the news. Nobody answered him.

Coach Sylvester's first order of business had been to separate the glee club into two groups, taking all the minority students (including Kurt) into her own group and leaving the rest under Mr. Schue's care.

"Wait, that's not fair!" Carson had protested. "I don't want to be in the group with Finn and Rachel. Can't I join the minority group? I'm a minority too, you know. It's not easy being one of the only people in this school with a fully functioning brain."

"Sorry, Twin-of-Gay-Kid, my group was pre-selected and I'm not accepting any more members right now," she had replied.

So that was how Carson now found himself being forced to be glorified backup for a Finn and Rachel number against his will for the fourth day in a row. It was excruciating, to say the least. If he had to hear Rachel screech one more verse of "No Air" into that stupid microphone of hers, he was going to crack. And possibly beat her over the head with said microphone. Yes. That sounded quite appealing, actually. And the less said about Finn, the better. Really, Carson didn't know WHY Finn was considered the male lead in this club. He couldn't sing. At all. Nor could he dance. If anyone should have been the male lead, it was Kurt. Then again, Carson had long ago come to terms with the fact that Mr. Schue was clearly unable to recognize real talent when he saw and heard it.

"Excuse me," Quinn said angrily after what felt like the hundred and fiftieth time they had run through the song. "What about us? Do you expect us to just sway back here like props?"

Carson almost felt like giving her a slow clap, because he agreed with the sentiment. Glee club as run by Schuester seemed to be all about the Finn And Rachel Show, and it was just a little bit ridiculous.

Ok, it was a LOT ridiculous.

"I think Sue is right about him," Quinn continued, picking up her bag. "He clearly doesn't like minorities."

By the look that crossed Puck and Brittany's faces as Quinn stalked out of the auditorium, Carson had a feeling that they had just stumbled upon the same idea as him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, considering that Brittany thought girl scout cookies were made out of actual girl scouts, and Puck was just an asshole, but nonetheless, he still found himself in Coach Sylvester's office later that afternoon sitting in a chair between the two of them while the cheerleading coach stared at them thoughtfully.

"Can you imagine in this day and age being discriminated against?" she said after a minute. "My goodness. The pain you must be feeling." She turned to Puck. "So, your last name's Puckerman, huh?"

"Shalom," replied Puck, raising his fist up.

"Who knew? And poor, sweet Brittany," she continued, passing over Carson to look at the girl to his left. "Oh, I know the Dutch are famous for being a cold people, but that's no excuse for treating you like some half-price hooker in Amsterdam's famous red light district."

Brittany just looked confused. Carson had to hand it to Coach Sylvester, she really had a way with words.

"And you," she said, turning to Carson at last. "I'm sorry, Twin Gay, I'm afraid I don't remember your name."

"Carson," he replied, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"Right. Well, Carson, I haven't quite figured you out yet, but I'm sure there's something about you that Will Schuester would be only too happy to discriminate against you for."

He nodded, not sure what to say to that.

"Well," she continued, "All I can say is, if you're serious about leaving Schuester, Sue Sylvester's rainbow tent will gladly protect you from his storm of racism."

_Great,_ thought Carson. _And that means I won't have to spend another afternoon listening to a dying cat and a walrus trying to sing._

Apparently, luck was not on Carson's side, because the first glee club meeting he attended as part of Sue's group involved trekking to the auditorium to watch Rachel and Finn (and a very pissed off Quinn Fabray) perform "No Air."

_Fuuuuuuck, I thought I had JUST escaped this_, he thought, irritated. He tried to initiate a thumb wrestling contest with Kurt to amuse himself, but Kurt was too busy staring at Finn. Of course. Carson sighed. He wasn't at all upset when the meeting somehow turned into an almost-brawl between Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester, resulting in everybody leaving.

"Do you ever stop and think, "Wow, my school is staffed entirely by idiots?" Carson asked Kurt that night as Kurt prepared to take a shower.

"All the time," replied Kurt, gathering up a towel and a new bottle of shampoo. "Especially after a day like today. What the hell was that?"

"That fight between Shue and Miss Sylvester? What that was, Kurtsie, was a horrible example for impressionable children such as ourselves, and I honestly don't know what the deal is with the hiring standards in this school system," said Carson, opening his laptop as Kurt disappeared into their attached bathroom.

"Truth!" he heard Kurt reply before the sound of the running water hit Carson's ears. He logged into his email to find a letter from Jacob Ben Israel, who was informing him that Coach Sylvester wanted him to run a story about Quinn's pregnancy, and could he do it in the _Muckraker?_

_Uuum, no. No, you may not. You can run it on your stupid gossip blog, but you will NOT run it in my paper. I do not run a tabloid._

He ran off an email to Jacob that said exactly this, only he said it a bit more tactfully. What the hell. He was feeling generous. He had just hit "Send" when the sound of water stopped and Kurt emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in nothing but the bath towel wrapped around his waist as he sat down at his mirror to begin his moisturizing routine.

Carson tried not to stare. Really, he did. But he couldn't really help it. Kurt was starting to fill out, that much he could see clearly. He had been doing a lot more dancing lately thanks to glee club, and it was starting to show its effects on his body. His arms, in particular, were slowly becoming more and more toned, even starting to show the beginnings of muscle. Carson wondered if he should be worried that he was blatantly checking Kurt out like this, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind. There wasn't anything wrong with appreciating the fact that his twin was gorgeous. Right?

"Are you ok?" Kurt asked, catching his eye in the mirror. "You look like you're going to be sick."

"Fine," Carson said, shaking his head and forcing himself to look away from Kurt. He logged out of his email and closed his laptop, getting under the covers and trying to act normal. As normal as he could act when he couldn't get the image of Kurt's arms out of his head, anyway.

Kurt joined him in bed a few minutes later, having put on a T-shirt and pajama pants, and settled himself against him, his back to Carson's chest. Carson could swear he felt his own heart leap into his throat as his arms settled over Kurt's relaxed form. He could feel Kurt's arms under his fingers, and wow, yep, he really_was_ developing muscles there. Carson ran his fingers lightly across them, fascinated by the feeling.

"Good night, Carsey," Kurt said with a yawn. "Love you."

"...love you, too," Carson answered.

* * *

"Well, that was embarrassing," said Carson dryly to Kurt as glee club let out one afternoon. "I don't know why Mr. Schue seems to think that rapping is a good idea, or that it's something we enjoy seeing him do. One of these days, I think I'll video it when he does it and post it on Youtube just for shits and giggles."

Kurt laughed. "Oh god, I so agree with you. And he does it like he thinks he's on MTV. It's actually kind of adorable how clueless he is."

"Mmm-hmm," said Carson in agreement, stopping to lean against a wall of lockers ad Kurt spun the combination to his own. "And why the fuck does he assign us homework? Glee is a club, not a class. It shouldn't be our job to come up with a song to mash up with "Bust A Move." No song exists that can _possibly_ be mashed up with "Bust A Move." And shouldn't we have actually picked a number for sectionals by now? I swear, every day he says "I think this is our number for sectionals," and then it's forgotten about by the next club meeting. If we don't pick a number soon and start rehearsing it, we're kind of screwed when it comes time for the actual competition. He does know this, right? I mean...he's the fucking leader of glee club, he _should_ know this, right?"

Kurt looked at him in awe as he finished his long and rambling speech, closing his locker and placing his arm around him, which instantly clogged Carson's brain with thoughts of _Oh, wow, ok, that feels nice, you should keep your arm there and never remove it ever._

"Is there _anything_ you enjoy about glee club, Carson?" Kurt asked, leading him out to the parking lot. Carson thought about it. He did enjoy the fact that Finn had arrived at the meeting that day with a face full of slushie, but Kurt probably wouldn't share the sentiment.

"The free entertainment," he answered finally, regretting the loss of Kurt's arm around his shoulder as they got into their car.

Kurt shook his head and started the engine. "You're too much."

"No, I'm just the right amount, and you love me for it."

"Yeah," replied Kurt, pulling out of the student parking lot. "You know I do."

* * *

"Well, I resigned from football," announced Kurt, strolling into the journalism classroom several days later and flopping down into an empty chair. Carson looked up from his laptop and removed his glasses.

"As happy as I am that you're no longer going to be spending time around those overgrown apes, why the sudden change of heart?" he asked. "And when did this happen?"

"Coach Tanaka has gone off his nut and added an extra practice day at the same time as glee meets," replied Kurt. "And glee is more important to me than football, so the decision was easy. I didn't really enjoy football all that much, anyway. I announced my resignation in the showers just now."

"And how did that go over?" asked Carson, trying not to think too much about Kurt in the shower.

"Not well. But whatever. I just worry about what Finn and the rest of the guys are going to decide. If they choose football over glee, we're once again short of enough people to qualify for sectionals."

Carson rolled his eyes. "I will PAY people to join glee if it means no more Finn."

"Carson!"

"What? You know how I feel about him and Mohawk, especially since Mohawk has apparently decided that dating Trollberry is a good idea" said Carson, turning his attention back to his laptop. "Talk about terrible decisions. Wait," he said, a troubling thought occurring to him. "Now that you're not on the football team anymore, won't you be at risk for daily slushie facials again?" Kurt hadn't been slushied since he joined the football team, which Carson had counted as the only bonus of him joining.

"Ugh, yes. Probably," Kurt groaned unhappily. "That's why I'm wearing this raincoat. That's why _everybody_ has been wearing raincoats. In case of a a random act of slushie violence. My poor wardrobe can't handle it!"

"Don't worry. I'll escort you everywhere," said Carson. "If they want to slushie you, they'll have to get through me first."

Kurt got up and stood behind Carson, throwing his arms around his neck and planting a kiss to the top of his hair. "What would I do without my big brother?"

"Walk around constantly covered in high fructose corn syrup, probably," said Carson, allowing himself to revel in the tight hug.

"Will you be done soon?" asked Kurt.

"Eh...fifteen minutes or so," said Carson. "Why don't you wait here?" _And feel free to keep your arms where they are. Please? Really. I highly approve._

"Nah, I think I'll go catch up with Mercedes before we go home. What are the odds of a slushie attack right now?" said Kurt. _Damn._

Carson frowned. "Be careful, ok?"

"Will do,"said Kurt, walking out of the classroom. Carson finished up the article he was working on and closed his laptop, slipping it into his bag. He headed out into the halls, looking for Kurt so they could go home. He found him at his locker, surrounded by Rachel, Tina, Artie, and Mercedes, and staring at none other than Finn Hudson, who was holding a fucking slushie in his hand.

"If I don't do it, the guys on the team are gonna kick the crap out of me!" Finn was whining as Carson got closer. _Oh, well heaven fucking forbid that poor Finnykins get tormented by his Neanderthal teammates for refusing to be an asshole,_ thought Carson. _There's no fucking way I'm going to let him-_

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Kurt said in a determined tone, interrupting Carson's thoughts and grabbing the slushie out of Finn's hand.

"What are you doing?" Finn asked, as Carson watched in confusion.

"It's called taking one for the team," answered Kurt, before he threw the slushie in his own face. Carson could only watch, mouth agape, as the cold liquid streamed down his brother's face. This was exactly why he could not stand Finn. Because for some reason, Kurt liked him enough to slushie himself to spare Finn from his teammates. Carson didn't understand what Finn's appeal was. He really, really did not. He just knew that he didn't deserve Kurt's loyalty.

"Now get out of here, and take some time to think whether or not any of your friends on the football team would have done that for you," said Kurt quietly. Finn obeyed, looking dazed as he walked right past Carson, who gave him his best icy glare. Fucking idiot.

"Someone get me to a day spa, stat!" said Kurt. He was immediately ushered into the girl's bathroom by Tina, Rachel, amd Mercedes. Carson followed them in there. He didn't care if it was the girl's bathroom or not.

"What was that, Kurt?" he asked sharply, crossing his arms across his chest.

"That was being a good teammate," replied Kurt.

_Good teammate my ass. That was you covering for a guy you like who wouldn't ever fucking deserve you in a million years, even if he wasn't straight,_ thought Carson. But he didn't say anything back. He just silently helped the girls clean Kurt off and then took him home.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Carson? I hate to think of you spending Halloween all alone," Kurt asked as he put the finishing touches on his costume. He was dressed as a pirate in a costume he had assembled himself, which consisted of a billowing, white, long sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of chest, tight black pants, leather boots, and eye makeup, which Kurt was currently applying in the mirror. A red bandana was tied skillfully to his head. Carson was trying deperately not to think of him as "Sexy Pirate," and was failing. Miserably.

Because that costume was sexy as hell.

"No, thanks. I'd rather spend the night in the company of horror movies and answer the door to trick or treaters than attend a party at Rachel Berry's house," replied Carson, his eyes wandering to Kurt's ass as his brother stood up. He quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on Kurt's arms. _Fuck, that's not any better._

"Yeah, I can't believe I'm going either, but...eh. What else is there for teenagers to do in Lima on Halloween?" said Kurt thoughtfully, capping the eyeliner he was finished using. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure," said Carson.

"How do I look?" asked Kurt, standing up and twirling around to model his costume. Carson swallowed.

"You look...you look good. Sex...er...best pirate ever," he said quickly, panicking slightly at the fact that he had almost said "sexy."

"Thanks!" said Kurt happily. He picked up his phone, which was lighting up with a text message. "That's Mercedes. She's waiting outside. You're SURE you don't want to come?"

"Positive," replied Carson, opening his laptop. "I got stuff to do for the paper anyway. You go. Have fun. But not too much fun. You know how I worry."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't I know it. Ok, see you later, Carsey."

Carson waved him on as Kurt ran up the stairs. He sighed and thudded his head against the headboard.

_What the fuck is wrong with me? I have GOT to stop checking him out like that. He's my brother, for fuck's sake. It's weird. Just...it's just weird. I'm turning into exactly the kind of pervert I would do anything to protect him from. This isn't good._

He took his laptop upstairs and lay down on the couch with the remote in one hand, determined to let an evening of horror films take his mind off of Kurt. It worked. He became so engrossed in answering the constantly ringing doorbell while counting all the plot holes in the _Halloween_ series (_Wait...when did the Myers house turn into a magnificent gothic mansion? Because I'm pretty sure it was just a regular house in the last movie_) that he barely noticed that any time had passed until Kurt came through the door later that night.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted!" Kurt exclaimed, removing his bandana and moving Carson's closed laptop onto the coffee table so that he could lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around his torso and his head resting on his chest. "Rachel made us have a karaoke contest, but she insisted on singing seventeen songs in a row. I was ready to kill her by the end of the night," he said. "And I don't know who decided that pumpkin carving was a fun Halloween activity, because it's actually really tedious and boring. And Puck wouldn't stop making "plundering the booty" jokes about my costume."

Carson, who had suddenly found himself with an armful of Kurt, was too distracted by how good he felt against him to provide an answer to that monologue right away. "That's terrible," he said at last. Not his best work, but he wasn't really thinking straight at the moment. Even though there was plenty he would have liked to say. Like how Rachel was a spotlight hogging diva, and that pumpkins were stupid, and that if Puck ever made a crass remark like that to Kurt again, Carson would shave his mohawk right off.

"Now I'm just ready to pass out," Kurt murmured, nuzzling his head a little higher, into Carson's neck. _God, his breath_. It was so warm. So warm and so nice.

"Go ahead," Carson said softly, holding Kurt in place with one hand and stroking Kurt's hair with the other. Kurt let out a happy sigh and Carson smiled. He knew that in a few minutes, Kurt would inevitably get up off of him and go downstairs to remove all that eye makeup and start his moisturizing routine, but for now he felt really good where he was. And Carson was enjoying it. A lot.

Which wasn't weird at all.

Right?


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here we go with a new chapter! My co-author and I have been reading your reviews and are LOVING them. If we could wallpaper out houses with them, we would. We're so glad you guys are enjoying this, because Kurson is our OTP. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

Carson sat in his seat waiting for glee club to start, eavesdropping on Quinn and Finn having an argument. Quinn was apparently none too pleased with the fact that Finn wasn't helping her pay her numerous doctor's bills related to her pregnancy.

"We have to start paying these doctor's bills, Finn, or they're going to go to a collection agency, and my parents will find out that I'm with child. YOUR child," she said irritably. Carson wondered how stupid Quinn thought her parents were that they wouldn't start noticing eventually, anyway. Not everybody was blessed with the stupidity of Finn Hudson, after all.

"Alright, guys, we're doing a new number for sectionals," said Mr. Schue as he entered the choir room. _What a fucking shock_, thought Carson sarcastically. They were _always_ doing a new number for sectionals. At this rate, they would still be picking numbers for sectionals long after sectionals was over.

"I know that pop songs have sort of been our signature pieces," continued Mr. Schue, passing out copies of the sheet music, "but I did a little research on past winners, and it turns out that the judges like songs that are more accessible. Stuff they know. Standards, Broadway..."

"Defying Gravity?" Kurt said eagerly, as he and Carson received their sheet music. "I have an iPod Shuffle dedicated exclusively to selections from _Wicked_. This is amazing." Carson smiled at him. It was true, he did. Carson had asked him once why he didn't just make a playlist for _Wicked_ on his regular iPod, and Kurt had replied that_Wicked_ was too special to be grouped in with all the other, common music on his other player.

Mr. Schue gave Kurt a tight smile. "Think you can handle it, Rachel?" he asked, looking at her. _What the fuck?_ Carson thought, looking at Kurt. Kurt's face was rapidly falling and Carson could practically _feel_ the disappointment and pain radiating off of him. Kurt loved that song. LOVED IT. And here was Mr. Schue just giving it to Rachel without even asking if anyone else would want it.

"It's my go-to shower song. It's also my ringtone," Rachel bragged. Carson wanted to slap her.

"Great place for you to sing it, since nobody is able to hear you over the running water," said Carson. He heard several students giggle at his words. Ah, so he _wasn't_the only person who couldn't stand Rachel. Rachel herself just glared at him.

"Why does she automatically get the song?" Carson asked Mr. Schue. "How is that fair? Shouldn't anyone else who might want it get a chance?"

Mr. Schue sighed. "Carson, there isn't enough time to rearrange the song for-"

"There would BE enough time if we weren't always wasting time doing stupid assignments that don't help our progress toward sectionals one bit," Carson retorted. "And Rachel is NOT the only person who can sing that song."

"It's in my range," Rachel said, as if that settled the problem.

"It's in my range, too," Kurt said quietly. So quietly that Carson was sure he was the only one who heard.

The topic of discussion turned to the fact that the school wouldn't pay for a handicapable bus for Artie for the trip to sectionals, the issue of who was singing "Defying Gravity" completely forgotten. Carson had never wanted to kick Will Schuester in the balls more.

* * *

"What if he says no?" Kurt asked nervously for what felt like the hundredth time, as he and Carson made their way toward the choir room for glee club.

"Then he's an asshole and we get Figgins involved," Carson replied. "They can't NOT let you audition for the song. That's completely unfair."

Kurt nodded. He knew Carson was right. He had to be. Carson was always right. They settled in their seats and waited for the meeting to begin.

"Go on," Carson whispered encouragingly as Mr. Schue entered the room. "Now's the best time, before he gives us yet another number to do for sectionals."

Kurt took a deep breath and raised his finger in the air. "I have something I'd like to say," he said as boldly as he could manage through his nerves. "I want to audition for the _Wicked_ solo," he said, standing up for emphasis.

"Kurt, there's a high F in it," Mr. Schue protested.

"That's well within my range," Kurt said, trying his best to ignore the chorus of giggles that sounded behind him. They could laugh all they wanted, but he knew he could sing that song. He'd been doing since he was a kid.

"Well, I think Rachel is gonna be fine for the female lead," Mr. Schue said. "But I'm happy to have you try out something else, Kurt. We'll make sure you get a killer high note." His tone of voice indicated quite clearly that the subject was closed.

_But I don't want anything else. I want "Defying Gravity." Or at least the chance to try out for it. _

Knowing he was defeated and that, as usual, it didn't matter what he wanted, he sat back down. He didn't have to look at Carson to know that his twin was probably blind with rage right now. Carson's hand brushed his and he took it, feeling him squeeze it reassuringly.

Mr. Schue went on to say something about how everyone was selfish for not caring whether or not they could get a handicapable bus for sectionals, and that as a learning tool they were all hereby ordered to spend three hours a day in wheelchairs that had been obtained from a tag sale at a nursing home. Kurt momentarily forgot his depression over "Defying Gravity" and exchanged a look with Carson. He knew they were both thinking the same thing. Namely, that the money spent on the wheelchairs could have just gone toward the bus.

"Wait, there's twelve of us who need chairs and only eleven chairs," said Rachel, counting the chairs as they were wheeled in.

Mr. Schue counted them himself, sighing. "You're right." He turned to where Kurt and Carson sat, looking between the two of them. "How about you guys share, ok?"

They shrugged in unison. It was probably easier just to go with it then to argue. "I'll wheel you," Carson said, gesturing for Kurt to sit in the chair. Kurt smiled and sat.

"My own personal chauffer," he said brightly, trying to act like he'd forgotten all about the song he wasn't allowed to try out for.

"And I do it happily," said Carson.

* * *

"Dad? I have to talk to you about something," Carson said later that day as he entered his father's garage and looked around. "Where's Kurt?" Kurt usually helped out at the garage in the afternoons, working on whatever needed doing. Carson didn't want him around for this conversation, though.

"He went to change his clothes," Burt answered, taking a seat at a table piled high with junk. "What's up, kid?"

"Well, it's about Kurt," Carson began, sitting across from him.

"Is this about what happened in glee club today?" Burt asked.

Carson nodded. "How did you know?"

"Kurt told me all about it today. Said that you guys were doing some song for a competition and he wasn't allowed to sing it 'cause it's a girl's song."

"Right," Carson said, "and I think it's complete bullshit."

"Hey! Language," Burt warned.

"Sorry, but really, it's completely unfair. Mr. Schue just gave the song to Rachel automatically without even asking if anyone else wanted to try for it. He does this kind of sh..._crap_ all the time, and it's getting ridiculous," said Carson. "Kurt has every right to audition for that song. There's got to be something we can do. Maybe you could talk to Principal Figgins. I'd do it myself, but they'd never listen to me. Although they _should_, because the entire school would be run way better if they did."

Burt nodded. "Know what? You're right."

"I know. It's favoritism and it needs to stop," said Carson.

"I'll go to that school tomorrow and have a little chat with your principal," Burt said, his mind made up. "This is discrimination. Sexism or something. They can't do that."

Carson smiled. "Good."

* * *

Kurt couldn't believe his ears at the next glee club meeting when Mr. Schue announced out of the blue that he had decided to give Kurt a chance to audition against Rachel for "Defying Gravity."

"Is this some sort of joke?" he asked incredulously.

"No, Kurt," replied Mr. Schue. "It's not. After a long discussion with your father and Principal Figgins, I've realized that it isn't fair at all for everyone not to get a chance to audition for songs they're interested in." Kurt smiled and exchanged a happy look with Carson, who was sitting on his lap due to the lack of his own wheelchair. Carson looked just as ecstatic as Kurt felt at the moment as he hugged him around the neck.

"But, wait," Rachel protested. "This isn't fair!"

"I know this is gonna be hard on you, Rachel, but I can't in good conscience preach about the importance of helping Artie and reject Kurt's request out of hand," Mr. Schue replied.

"Damn right you can't," Carson muttered under his breath. Kurt wished he would stop moving around so much in his lap. He had been doing it for the entire club meeting, and Kurt was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be enjoying it as much as he was. Thankfully, the prospect of possibly getting his very own solo was giving him something else to think about besides Carson's warm, pleasant weight in his lap.

"So you're giving him my part?" Rachel complained. "This is totally unfair! You gave me the part!"

'And I will give it to you again if you can sing the song better than Kurt," replied Mr. Schue.

"And she won't," Carson whispered in Kurt's ear. "Because she can't." He shifted in Kurt's lap again, and Kurt tried not to concentrate on that.

"Now, all of you are gonna judge," Mr. Schue said, addressing the entire club. "And in the spirit of full access, each of you is going to get a vote. Whatever singer has the most votes gets the part."

"This isn't going to be about talent, Mr. Schuester," Rachel whined. "It's gonna be a popularity contest!"

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. "Stop right there," he said to Rachel. "Mr. Schue? If I may?" He carefully wheeled himself and Carson into the center of the room and faced the rest of the club members as Carson crossed his arms and glared at them.

"We all know I'm more popular than Rachel, and I dress better than her," Kurt began, full of bravado now that he may possibly be earning something he wanted for a change. "But, I want you all to promise me that you're going to vote for whoever sings the song better. Raise your right hand."

Everyone except Brittany raised their right hands in obedience. "Your _right_ hand, Brittany," Kurt said patiently. "Repeat after me. I promise to vote for whoever sings the song better."

"I promise to vote for whoever sings the song better," everyone repeated in bored voices. Kurt smiled and wheeled himself back into place. "It's ON," he informed Rachel as he passed by her. Carson nodded and intensified his glare in her direction.

And it certainly was on. There was no way, Kurt decided, that Rachel was going to win this thing. If he had to practice day and night to get the song perfect, he would do it. Kurt Hummel was finally going to get something he wanted if it killed him.

* * *

"Your audition is tomorrow, Kurtsie," Carson said cheerfully, watching Kurt through the mirror as Kurt went through his nightly facial routine. "I, for one, am gleefully anticipating watching you metaphorically kick Trollberry's ass and wipe the floor with her."

Kurt forced himself to smile at his twin. "Yeah, it's...it's gonna be so much fun," he said, trying desperately to pretend everything was fine.

But it wasn't. It wasn't fine. Carson didn't know that there would be no victory over Rachel tomorrow. He didn't know that there wouldn't be one because Kurt just couldn't go through with it. He didn't know about the harassing phone call their dad had received at work about Kurt. It was probably best if Carson never knew. He would just flip out and get angry, and what good would that do?

Unfortunately, Carson was nothing if not psychic when it came to sensing Kurt's moods. "What's wrong?" he asked, frowning.

"Nothing," Kurt said, plastering a smile on his face. "Just...nerves. I'm nervous about the audition tomorrow."

Carson was silent for a minute, as though he knew there was more that Kurt was't telling him, but he only smiled back. "Oh, well...you'll do fine. You're a better singer than Rachel by far. Plus, nobody likes her."

"Right," Kurt mumbled, putting away all his creams and getting into bed.

"Of course I'm right," Carson said, putting his notebook away and turning out the light. "You're going to stun everybody when they hear you sing."

He was right, as always. Unfortunately, it wasn't for the reason he should have been. Kurt had made his decision.

_He was standing in front of the entire glee club, his posture perfectly straight as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the song. The song he had been singing for years. He knew that song like the back of his hand. He knew every line, every rise and dip of a note, everything. It felt wrong. It felt WRONG to intentionally screw up that high note that he knew he could reach. It felt like a knife through his soul, actually. But he had to do it. He had to. He couldn't get this part and perform it at sectionals knowing that it would open his dad up to all kinds of harassment he never signed up for. That was why he was throwing this audition. _

_The faces of his peers were a mixture of shock and disappointment and confusion as he flubbed the note. He looked for Carson's face among them. He wasn't there. Where was he? He needed him now more than ever._

_"Carson?" he called out, forgetting to finish the song. "Carson, where are you? CARSON?"_

_And then there were arms around him. Comforting arms. And a familiar voice telling him "Shhh" and "I've got you" and "It will be ok." Kurt nestled into the arms, Carson's arms, he knew, and sighed as peace washed over him and everything faded to black._

When he woke up in the morning still in Carson's arms, he wasn't sure at first which parts had been a dream and which had been real.

* * *

"Now remember," Carson said, rubbing circles on Kurt's back as they waited for the auditions to start. "We give Trollberry two whole minutes to cry like a toddler before we start rubbing it in her face."

Kurt nodded, not cracking a smile like he usually would have whenever Carson made a joke at Rachel's expense. Something was bothering him, and Carson wasn't sure it was just nerves. It was something bigger. It had to be. He could sense it.

"All right, welcome to the glee club's first official Diva-Off," said Mr. Schue. "Let's get this party started!" he said, as everyone applauded.

Kurt was up first. Carson sat up straight in his chair and gave him an enthusiastic smile and a thumbs up. _You can do it, Kurtsie. I know you can._

And he sang it just as beautifully as he always had. That voice was truly a gift, Carson thought. Angels only _wished_ they sounded like Kurt. He didn't understand why Mr. Schue didn't recognize this and hardly ever gave Kurt opportunities to shine. It was truly a travesty. Carson waited, antipating the glory high note that Kurt had worked so hard on. The one he had been so excited to hit, because it meant he would win.

So when Kurt went shockingly off-key and blew the note, Carson thought there must be some sort of mistake at first. He had misheard. He had to have. There was no way Kurt had blown that note. He looked around at everyone else, expecting their faces to be full of awe, because even if he had misheard, surely they had not. They must have heard him hit that note, right?

But no. Everyone looked either surprised or sad, even Rachel. What the fuck had just happened? How had Kurt blown that note? There was no way he could have. Carson himself had heard him practicing it for days, hitting it over and over again. Not only in the past week, but for years. Which meant that Kurt must have done it on purpose.

And Carson thought he had a pretty good idea why. Everyone who had been giving him shit for it being a girl's song was to blame, especially fucking Will Schuester and his blatant favoritism toward Rachel. Carson was, to say the least, furious.

Kurt finished singing and sat down quickly, looking down at his shoes. Carson reached for his hand, but Kurt pulled it away as Mr. Schue gestured for Rachel to take her turn. She had barely gotten past the first line of the song when Kurt quietly got up and left the room. Carson watched him go, wanting badly to follow him and make everything ok. He wasn't sure he could. He knew how badly Kurt had wanted that song. He decided he was going to give everyone a piece of his mind first.

He seethed throughout Rachel's audition, refusing to clap when she finished. Fuck her.

"Where's Kurt?" she asked as she sat down, noticing Kurt's absence.

"He's not here, Rachel. He left," said Carson. "If I had to make a guess, I'd say he's somewhere feeling like shit about himself, and before I go after him, I have something I have to say." He got up and turned around to face them.

"You know that he blew that note on purpose, right?" he said angrily, glaring around the room. "He can sing "Defying Gravity" like NOBODY can fucking sing it, because he's been singing it for years. Not to mention the fact that he spent HOURS practicing it for the past week, and he hit that high F every time. But apparently, he felt like he needed to screw it up on purpose, because he didn't want people judging him like his supposed "friends" do. Like his own TEACHER did," he said pointedly, glaring in Mr. Schue's direction. "You all laughed at him when he dared to ask for a chance to audition. You LAUGHED. Every last one of you LAUGHED. I hope you're happy being assholes, because that's what you all are."

Finished, he stalked out of the choir room to go find Kurt. He didn't even glance behind him to see how his speech had been received. Probably not well, if he had to guess. But fuck them.

* * *

Kurt had left the school without even bothering to collect his books from his locker. It was times like these he appreciated living only a twelve minute walk from the high school. He let himself inside the house and leaned against the door, his face in his hands. What he wouldn't give for his mother to be here right now.

He took a deep breath and headed down the hall, straight for his father's bedroom. He needed his mom right now, even if it was in the smallest of ways, and this was the only way he was going to get that. Silently, he crossed over to the broken, empty dresser across from the bed, running his fingers lightly over the dull wood that hadn't been polished in years. He hooked his fingers into the handles of the top drawer and gently pulled it open, trying not to break it any further. The familiar scent of his mother's perfume instantly hit his nose, and he breathed in deeply one time, allowing all of the comforting memories he associated with that perfume to wash over him. He opened each drawer, one by one, until they were all pulled out, the smell wafting out into the room in waves. Kurt sank down onto the floor until he was leaning up against the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees and closing his eyes. He let out a shuddering breath and imagined that his arms were his mother's, that it was her who was holding him as he started to cry. That she was rocking him like she used to do when he was little and came crying to her about how he couldn't understand why some of the kids at school were so mean to him. That she was whispering in his ear that no matter what anyone said, she loved him and was proud of him and he was perfect just the way he was. He tried to imagine what she would say now, if she knew why he had flubbed his audition on purpose.

The sound of footsteps entering the room broke into his thoughts. Kurt didn't look up or open his eyes. He didn't have to in order to know whose footsteps they were. The overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort he felt as Carson sank down beside him and pulled him into an embrace was so strong it almost broke him.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Kurt just melted into Carson's arms and cried, letting himself fall completely apart and knowing it was ok, because his brother would put him back together again, just like he always did. Just like Kurt would never hesitate to do for him. Just like they both had promised their mother they would do.

"I wanted it so much," Kurt whispered as his crying finally tapered off into sniffles. "So much, but I...I couldn't..." He wasn't sure what to say. Carson still didn't know about the phone call to the garage, and Kurt didn't want him to. He didn't want Carson worrying about him even more than he already did.

"Shhh," Carson soothed, his fingers stroking gently through Kurt's hair. It was something Kurt would go off on anyone else for, but it felt really nice when Carson did it. "It's ok. Rachel may have gotten it, but we both know you're the only one in that club who can sing that song the way it was meant to be heard. And that's all that matters right now." Kurt nodded, holding on to Carson for dear life.

"Just one more thing, and then I'll shut up," Carson said quietly. Kurt looked up at him through his eyelashes.

"You shouldn't have done that. I mean, I understand why you did it, but...you think too much about everyone else instead of yourself, Kurt. You can't just never do what you want because of what other people might think. You'll never be able to enjoy your life if you hold yourself back because of them."

Kurt nodded, breathing in deep. Carson didn't smell like their mother's perfume, of course, but he still smelled wonderful and familiar. Like home. He felt Carson's embrace become ever so slightly tighter. He said nothing else, but Kurt could feel the unspoken "I love you" just the same.

* * *

"Ballad," said Mr. Schue, as he wrote the word on the white board. "From Middle English "balade." Who knows what this word means?"

"It's a male duck!" said Brittany proudly. Carson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If he kept doing that, they might stay that way, and that would be terrible.

Kurt raised his hand.

"Kurt?" asked Mr. Schue.

"A ballad is a love song," answered Kurt knowledgeably.

"Sometimes," said Mr. Schue, "but they don't always have to express love. Ballads are stories set to music, which is why they are the perfect storm of self expression. Stories and music are the way we express feelings that we can't get out any other way.."

Carson yawned, wondering where Curls was going with this boring ballad shit.

"Ok, now sectionals are in a few weeks," said Mr. Schue, "and there's a new rule this year. We have to perform a ballad."

"Looks like my weekly letter to the Ohio Show Choir committee finally paid off," said Rachel happily. Carson forgot his vow to stop rolling his eyes.

"Ok, so here's our assignment for the week," said Mr. Schue. _Fucking hell, why do we always have assignments? Is this a class? No, this is a club. A CLUB._

"I'm going to pair you off, and I want you to pick a ballad to sing to your partner," Mr. Schue said.

_Fuuuuuuck. I don't want to do this. Maybe if I get paired with Kurt, but there's no way in fuck i'm singing to anyone else here._

"Your partners will be chosen by fate," he continued. "I put all your names in this hat. Whoever you choose is your partner."

One by one, the students came up to the hat that Mr. Schue had placed on top of the piano. Carson very nearly groaned out loud when fucking Finn reached into the hat and pulled out Kurt's name.

"Mr. Schue, I don't think I can do this with another guy," he heard Finn complain._Great, then don't. I'll take Kurt. Um..I mean...yeah...whatever._

"The fates have spoken, Finn," replied Mr. Schue. _Fuck you, no they haven't._

Unfortunately, Kurt and Finn being paired up wasn't even the worst part. No, the worst part was when he realized that everyone else had already been paired off except for him and Rachel.

Yes. Not only was he expected to sing a stupid ballad, but he was expected to sing it with Rachel Fucking Berry.

No. NO. NO, NO, NO.

"Looks like I get you, Carson," Rachel said, sounding even less happy about this than Carson was. He crossed his arms and glared down at his sneakers. There was no fucking way that he was singing with Rachel. He would die first. On the list of things he would rather do than sing with Rachel Berry, diving into a pool full of poisonous tarantulas and boa constrictors was right up there in neon ink with hearts and smiley faces drawn around it.

He heard her say something about meeting her in the choir room the next afternoon to start rehearsing, but he barely paid attention. Because he wasn't planning on showing up. He actually, honestly forgot all about it until the morning after he failed to appear for rehearsal, when the door to the journalism classroom flew open and there stood Rachel, her face a cloud of irritation.

"Carson," she said angrily, stomping her way over to the desk where he sat with his laptop and placing her hands firmly on her hips. "We were supposed to start rehearsing our ballad yesterday afternoon. I had already made a list of ballads which perfectly show off my vocal range, since, no offense, I highly doubt that you have the musical know-how to make any useful suggestions for this assignment. All you had to do was show up. Where WERE you?"

Carson looked at her, amused, and removed his glasses slowly. He put on what he hoped looked like a sincere, sorrowful expression and clasped his hands together on the desk. He was going to have some fun and screw with her a little.

"Berry," he said, "Don't get your hideous knee socks in a knot. I'm really very sorry that I didn't show up for what I'm sure would have been a riveting hour of pretending to care while you screeched your way through the Great American Songbook while wearing an expression on your face not unlike that of a person trying to give birth to a fully grown elephant. Really, there's nothing I would have rather been doing, especially since I had _just_ purchased a fancy new set of earplugs for the occasion. But, you see, I actually had a terrible case of the runs."

Rachel glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "The runs?"

"Yes, Berry, the runs. The trots. The green apple splatters. Diarrhea," he said calmly, thoroughly enjoying the disgusted look on her face that only contorted more the longer he talked. "It was awful. Shit everywhere. Kind of like glee club, now that I think about it. Anyway," he said seriously, as Rachel's nauseated expression slowly turned back into a glare, "I'm sorry. Kind of. Not really. Actually, since this ballad assignment isn't related to sectionals, it's a waste of my and everyone else's time."

"It IS related to sectionals, Carson," Rachel fired back. "Mr. Schue said that we have to sing a ballad at the competition, and-"

"Right, well, he should probably choose one for us to sing, then, instead of wasting a week having us sing to each other. And you should probably find yourself a new partner if you want to participate, because I don't think I will." He gave her a dismissive hand wave and put his glasses back on. "You may feel free to leave my classroom."

Rachel looked like she wanted to say something, but she only shook her head and turned around, stalking out of the classroom. Carson rolled his eyes. He would have to work on breaking that habit.

* * *

Thankfully, Rachel somehow managed to partner herself up with Mr. Schue for the rest of the week. He had no idea what she said to him, but Mr. Schue didn't say a thing to Carson, so he figured she had made up some excuse for not working with him. Whatever. It worked for him. He was getting free entertainment over the fact that Rachel was apparently crushing on Mr. Schue, if the extremely embarrassing rendition of "Endless Love" that she made him sing with her in glee club the next day was any indication. He almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. Almost.

It was an amusing distraction from the fact that Kurt was spending so much time with Finn because of the stupid assignment. Carson did not approve of this arrangement at all, and made it a point to stick around school on the days when Kurt and Finn were using the auditorium so that he could catch Kurt as he was leaving, thereby cutting down on his time with Finn as much as possible.

"I think the club should do something for Finn and Quinn," Kurt said one night as he and Carson settled into bed. "Sing them something."

"Uuum, why would we want to do that?" asked Carson.

"To show them that they've got us to depend on," answered Kurt sleepily. "They're going through such a tough time right now, especially with Quinn being kicked out of her house and all."

"Maybe I'm just a jerk, but why should I give a shit about either one of them?" asked Carson. "Neither of them have ever been particularly wonderful to me in the past. Or to you, for that matter. So why should we waste our time singing songs of encouragement to them?"

"It would just be a nice thing to do," Kurt said.

"Well, you and the rest of the club do what you want, but I think I'll pass," replied Carson. The very thought of having to even pretend to be nice to Finn almost made him break out in hives. Besides, his sympathy for either him was basically non-existent. Quinn was a lying, scheming bitch, and Finn was just a dumbass who deserved whatever he got if he was stupid enough to believe Quinn's "pregnancy by hot tub" story.

"Yeah, you're right. You're kind of a jerk. Doesn't mean I don't love you anyway," said Kurt with a yawn.

Carson smiled and held his arms out so that he could wrap them around Kurt as they settled against each other. "Go to sleep, Kurtsie."

* * *

"Alright, guys, I did some thinking last night. I think I've found our new number for sectionals!" exclaimed Mr. Schue, his face glowing with excitement. Carson caught Kurt looking over at him with an amused grin, and Carson shook his head and rolled his eyes. He really was going to have to start a drinking game or something for every time the glee club director said this phrase, because it was getting fucking ridiculous.

"We're gonna do the title song from _Hair_," Mr. Schue continued, holding up the sheet music and looking proud of himself.

"Wait, what happened to the ballad thing?" asked Carson. "Are we just forgetting about that, or...what's the deal there? Nobody ever even performed theirs. What was the point of pairing off and choosing songs?" _Not to mention that Kurt spent all that time alone with Finn for nothing._

"Now, this show started a revolution," Mr. Schue said, ignoring Carson's questions as usual. Carson sighed. Why the fuck did he even bother?

"Wait, did they have mohawks back then? Like, in the '20s or whatever?" Puck asked.

"Yeah, Mr. Schue," said Finn, "If we're going to do a song about hair, shouldn't we have more hair?"

"I'm one step ahead of you," replied Mr. Schue, giving Carson a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whenever Schuester was that cocky, nothing good ever came of it. "Here are your wigs!" he said triumphantly, brandishing the bag he was holding in one hand and tossing it to Finn, who opened it to reveal the ugliest collection of wigs Carson had ever seen in his life.

_It's no wonder this club is always short on funding for things we need, like busses,_he thought as the guys in the club started pawing through the wigs, trying to decide which one to take. _Mr. Schue is always wasting the budget we do get on stupid shit like wigs._ He watched as Kurt carefully placed a long, blonde wig on his head and ran his fingers through the fake hair. _Wow, Kurt is adorably precious in his wig, though. Good thing people can't hear my thoughts, because I would probably never live down using the phrase "adorably precious," but yeah. He's so cute. He's the ONLY one who looks cute._

"Looking great, guys!" Mr. Schue chuckled when all the guys (except Carson, who absolutely refused) were donning a wig. He gave Carson a side-eye, but Carson knew by now that he wouldn't say a damn thing to him about it because he didn't want to risk losing any members again before sectionals. Carson would do the stupid song with everyone, but there was no way he was going to put on one of those hideous wigs.

Not that it really mattered, since he ended up missing the next day's glee meeting anyway due to staying behind in English class to argue with his teacher over the grade on his latest paper (he managed to talk his way from a C to a B, to he considered it a small victory). He caught up with Kurt afterwards just as he was finishing a conversation with Quinn.

"What did she want?" Carson asked as Quinn walked away looking pleased with herself. "I don't think she's ever actually spoken to either of us except to call us losers."

"Yeah, I know. It was so weird. She wants me to give Rachel a makeover for the good of the club," Kurt replied, stopping at his locker. "I said I'd do it."

"What? Why?" Carson asked. "I mean, I know you like giving makeovers and everything, but you hate Rachel!"

"I have my reasons," said Kurt, a small smile playing on his lips as he collected the books he would need for the night and slammed his locker shut.

"Are you going to share them with me?" Carson asked eagerly. Kurt had mischief on his mind, he could tell.

"No. Well...not right now. Later. Once I've had time to...heeeey, Rachel!" he exclaimed as Rachel passed by them. "Can I talk to you for just a minute? I have a proposition for you." He gave Carson a wave that clearly said "Go, I'm working here." Carson obeyed, but he was extremely curious.

_What are you planning in that adorable brain of yours, Kurt Hummel? _he thought as he took one last glance over to where Kurt was eagerly saying something to Rachel, who looked absolutely bewildered. He hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long to find out.

He didn't have to wait long, as it turned out. Kurt disappeared off to Rachel's house for several hours that night, looking extremely pleased with himself when he returned home. Carson was dying of curiosity. He was dying of something else entirely when Rachel showed up at school the next day wearing a short, black dress with a fucking corset top that showed off everything that Carson definitely did_ not_ want to see.

"Ugh, put that shit AWAY!" he exclaimed as she passed by him in the hallway. "What are you trying to do, make people sick?" Rachel only glared at him as she headed toward her locker. Carson shook his head in disbelief. Had Kurt gone absolutely insane?

"Kurt, what the hell?" he asked as he entered homeroom and slipped into the seat beside his twin. "When I came to school this morning, I was definitely NOT expecting to get an eye full of Trollberry's boobage. There is literally nothing that can ever prepare a person for such a horrible, awful sight. What did you DO?"

Kurt shrugged. "I gave her a makeover."

"Yeah, and in the process you gave _me_ a terrible case of nausea," Carson replied. "It's going to take me forever to erase the mental images!"

"I have a plan, though," said Kurt. "This is just phase one of the makeover."

"Oh?" Carson asked, intrigued. "Do I get to know what phase two is, or are you going to be mean and leave me out of the loop?" He tried giving Kurt the pouty look that Kurt always gave him, but he had a feeling that it probably didn't look even remotely the same. Plus, he felt ridiculous doing it.

"That only works when I do it," said Kurt seriously, looking around dramatically before leaning in and whispering into Carson's ear. "What if I told you that, thanks to me, she's going to end up making a complete fool of herself in front of Finn on Friday night?"

"I'd say that sounds suspiciously like something you're only doing because you have the hots for Finn, which kind of isn't helping my nausea," answered Carson.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Do you want to hear my plan or not?"

"Yes," Carson grumbled.

"Ok, well, do you remember that time I made you watch _Grease _with me?"

Carson listened, fascinated, as Kurt outlined his plan, which involved setting Rachel up to fully embarrass herself in skintight black lycra. Which, admittedly, was the last mental image of her that Carson really wanted to add to the already disgusting ones he already had, but still. Kurt's plan was so deliciously evil. Carson just tried not to focus on _why_ he was doing it. Because honestly, Rachel kind of had it coming.

"Just please tell me there will be photos," he said. "They might come in handy for blackmail purposes in the future."

* * *

_SLAM!_

The sound of his locker slamming shut startled Kurt out of his thoughts, and he looked up in a panic, only to discover Rachel standing there. And she looked _pissed_.

"You set me up with Finn," she said accusingly.

"Looks like someone is running for drama queen again," he spat back at her, adjusting his bag over his shoulder and giving her his best haughty look.

"How could you do that? I thought we were friends," she said.

_Friends? Oh, Rachel. That's adorable. We've never been friends, sweetheart._

"And what made you think that?" he asked. "You should be thanking me. All I did was help you realize that your schoolgirl fantasy of running off with Finn was nothing but a fairy tale."

Rachel looked at him carefully, realization slowly dawning on her face. "You like him. Yeah...that's what this is. And you were just trying to eliminate the competition!"

"I was just helping him realize that you are not a viable second choice!" he retorted. He turned and walked away from her, entirely finished with this conversation. Rachel, however, was apparently not finished, because she stalked right after him.

"You think I'm a second choice?" she asked incredulously as he turned back around to face her.

"A distant second," he said dryly. He was not going to let her get to him.

"You think I'm living in a fairy tale? If I were second, or if I were fiftieth, I'd still be ahead of you because I'M A GIRL," she said angrily.

Kurt felt rather than saw Carson step up next to him at that moment. He held up a hand to silence his twin before he could go off on Rachel, because Kurt had a few things he wanted to say to her himself. Thankfully, Carson kept quiet, settling for crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Rachel icily.

"Ok, here's the dope, princess," Kurt began. "There's no hope for either of us. He loves Quinn. They're having a baby together." He heard Carson let out a snort beside him, which he ignored. "We're nothing but distractions," he continued. "The sooner we realize that, the better." He nodded to Carson, giving him permission to speak now if he wanted.

"Shockingly, I have nothing to add to that," said Carson. "Well, except maybe to say that I don't understand what either one of you see in Finn. Like, at all. He's like an extremely tall toddler."

Kurt rolled his eyes and slipped his arm through Carson's, leading them away. If he was being honest with himself, his motivation for humiliating Rachel didn't have anything to do with Finn. Well...not entirely, anyway. It actually had a lot more to do with his residual anger over the "Defying Gravity" incident. And the fact that he couldn't stand her entitled attitude in general. Maybe he was just a jerk. He wondered, then, why he was making it all about Finn if it mostly wasn't.

"You ok?" Carson asked, squeezing him close. Kurt smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Fine. We'll both get over it," he said. He tried not to notice how good it felt, as it always did, to have Carson holding him so close. Tried not to notice how his heartbeat got ever so slightly faster, or the way his stomach did flips. Precisely the way he wished they would do when he was with Finn.

Well...precisely the way they once did, kind of, when he was around Finn, but didn't anymore.

Maybe he was just sick.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, here we go with a new chapter (Sorry it's a bit late. The holidays and everything kind of distracted me). Anyhoodle, my co-author and I have made a Tumblr account for interested people to ask Carson and Kurt any questions they may have. You know you want to. It's fun! Ask them anything you want! The page is here if you're intrigued: askthehummeltwins DOT tumblr DOT com  
**

**Now, one last note, and this concerns where the story is going to be going soon. I know a lot of people have asked us what we plan to do with Blaine in this fic, and we just want to go ahead and warn you that if you're a fan of Blaine, you're probably not going to be comfortable with the way he's treated once he's been introduced. He's mostly being seen through Carson's eyes, after all. So, if you want to turn back now and stop reading before we get to Blaine, we completely understand.**

**I think that's everything. So, here we go. Enjoy!**

Somehow, either by some kind of miracle or black magic, Carson managed to make it to the week of sectionals without murdering every last member of the glee club except for Kurt. He wasn't sure exactly how that happened, because there had been more than a few close calls. Like when Rachel had approached him one morning before school started and cautiously asked him to be her glee club co-captain for the club's yearbook picture (he had chuckled and then given her a big, fat NO, of course). Or the time she had signed up the entire club to star in a mattress commercial (the only good part of THAT had been watching Kurt bouncing around on all those mattresses dressed in those blue pajamas that perfectly brought out the color of his eyes, and…um…anyway). Or when she and Mercedes had practically had a throw down in the choir room over who was better able to perform a ballad (Carson had to give all his votes to Mercedes, if only because she wasn't Rachel). Come to think of it, most of his problems with glee had to do with Rachel.

Now that everybody had found out about Puck being Quinn's baby's father except for Rachel (and Finn), Carson wasn't sure whether he still wanted to murder everybody or if he wanted to study them. Because for as much effort as they were making to make sure that neither Rachel or Finn found out until at least after sectionals, they were doing a terrible job of it. Not to mention that Carson thought Finn _really_ should have caught on by now, even as stupid as he was. Maybe Carson could make it into something for the paper. He could call it "Small Town Stupidity," and do studies and shit. Yes, that would be epic.

He was so caught up in his thoughts (and in the game of Scrabble he was playing on his phone) that he almost didn't even notice Finn entering the choir room until he was lunging at Puck, swinging his fists and screaming like some kind of demented caveman.

_Guess he must have found out about who the real father is_, thought Carson, amused at the sight of Finn beating the absolute shit out of Puck while the whole club just stood around and watched. _Maybe if nobody does anything, they'll kill each other. Oh god, I hope so. That would be entertaining as hell._

Unfortunately for Carson, Mr. Schue eventually showed up and broke the two boys apart, yelling at them to knock it off.

"Tell the truth!" Finn screamed as Mr. Schue held him back away from Puck.

"Dude just walked in and sucker punched me!" Puck complained.

Carson rolled his eyes and went back to his phone, completely disinterested as Quinn made her tearful confession and everybody looked at each other awkwardly.

"So, all that stuff about the hot tub…you just made that up?" Finn asked Quinn.

"You were stupid enough to buy it!" Puck answered. Carson snorted loudly, causing everyone in the room to turn in his direction and glare at him.

"What?" he asked. "Mohawk has a point! Seriously, I've been wondering when you would ever figure it out, Finn. Although, I have to say, I'm kind of impressed that it only took you a few months. I was expecting you to buy Quinn's story until the kid was at least a teenager. So, bravo!"

Everybody just looked at him for a second, mystified, before he was forgotten about as Finn and Quinn continued their tear-filled fight. _Eh, whatever. He had to find out sometime_, Carson shrugged to himself as he returned to his game.

* * *

Sectionals finally came and went, much to Carson's relief. Coach Sylvester ended up leaking their setlist to the competing schools, causing the club to have to scramble to assemble three numbers in under an hour. Carson couldn't understand why everyone thought this was such a terrible thing.

"Um, guys? Don't we kind of always do this? I mean, Schuester is handing us new sheet music at every damn meeting and you all are suddenly up and dancing with perfect choreography. An hour should be plenty of time for you to come up with a new setlist," he had said sensibly. Not surprisingly, he was answered with a chorus of eye rolls. He just counted himself as lucky that he didn't have to actually be out on the stage when Rachel screeched her way through "Don't Rain On My Parade." He couldn't believe that New Directions actually won after the judges heard that, but whatever.

The best part of sectionals being over was that it meant he and Kurt didn't have to go to school for three weeks. Winter break was such a wonderful invention.

"Three weeks of no glee club, no Finn, and best of all, no Trollberry!" Carson exclaimed gleefully as he and Kurt woke up on the first morning of vacation. Kurt mumbled and snuggled closer into Carson's arms, pulling the blanket back up that had slid down during the night. His back was pleasantly warm against Carson's chest.

"Oh my god, Carson, it's like 7am," he said sleepily. "We have no school to go to. Go back to sleep."

"I can't, I'm too excited," replied Carson, even as he settled back against his pillow and held Kurt closer, running one of his hands lightly up and down Kurt's arm. He had developed something of a habit of doing this. He couldn't help it. Kurt's arms felt _really_ good under his fingers, especially as they grew more and more defined every day. It was a shame, really, that they were always hidden under so many layers of clothing. Tight shirts would be such a good look for him.

"You can't get up, because then I won't be able to sleep anymore," Kurt whined, his voice thick with fatigue. "Just…like…give me two more hours. And then we can go play in the snow."

Carson smiled, even though Kurt couldn't see his face. "Ok, ok, you win. Go back to sleep, Kurtsie. I'll stay here."

Kurt sighed happily. "Thank you."

"Any time," Carson said. Not that he minded, really. Lazy mornings in bed with Kurt were actually his favorite part of weekends and school vacations.

He must have fallen back asleep, because the next thing he knew, Kurt was gently shaking him awake.

"Carson…still wanna go play in the snow?" he asked.

Carson's eyes opened slowly, peering at Kurt, who was already dressed from head to toe in impeccably stylish outerwear, complete with a white scarf and hat to match his sky blue coat. Carson smiled sleepily.

"Yep…give me five minutes," he replied, getting out of bed and quickly grabbing the first clothes he could find. He and Kurt may have been twins, but their morning routines were anything but identical.

"You're wearing a hoodie?" Kurt asked disbelievingly as he watched Carson get dressed. "It's twenty degrees outside right now, and you're just wearing a hoodie?"

Carson shrugged as he put on his boots with gloved hands. "Yeah? You know that I don't get cold. My blood is pretty much constantly boiling hot, I'm sure of it. I think my anger issues make it that way. Besides, this isn't just a normal hoodie. It has a fleece lining. See?" He opened the jacket to reveal the inside the Kurt, who rolled his eyes.

"You're going to catch a cold dressed like that," he protested. "Will you at least put on a scarf?"

"Do I have to? They're so bulky."

"Yes. Pleeeaaase?" Kurt pleaded, sucking in his bottom lip.

"Oh fuck, not the pout," Carson said. "You know I can't…ok, _fine_, I'll wear a scarf."

"And a hat."

Carson sighed. "And a hat."

Kurt watched as Carson put on the items, giving him a satisfied smile. "Ok, let's go pretend we're six years old again and go play in the snow!" he said, grabbing Carson's hand and leading them outside. The backyard was covered in a shiny, white blanket of freshly fallen snow. It was so beautiful that Carson almost felt sorry for wanting to destroy it, but what was even more beautiful was the sight of Kurt against it, the contrast between the snow and the color of his coat making him look like a gorgeous decoration. Carson just stared at him for a minute, completely transfixed, until Kurt gathered up a handful of snow and packed it into a ball, which he threw at Carson with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, you did NOT just throw a snowball at me," Carson said, placing his hands on his hips in an exaggerated manner and trying to glare at Kurt despite the smile already forming on his face.

"Actually, yes, I did. And it hit you right in the chest. I am awesome," Kurt gloated, picking up more snow. "You might want to start growing some balls to hit me with," he said mischievously, "before I pummel you with more of mine."

Carson started gathering snow in his hand, dodging the snowballs being pelted at him by Kurt as he formed his own frozen artillery (taking care not to pack the snow too tightly, because he didn't want to hurt Kurt, although Kurt was certainly not showing him the same consideration).

"Alright, Kurtsie, you asked for it," he said once he had a respectable number of snowballs at his disposal. "You wanted a war, and now you've got one. Prepare to taste my frozen fury!" He took one of the snowballs in his hand and aimed it carefully at Kurt, throwing it with all his might. It landed on Kurt's arm and kind of bounced there before landing in a splatter back on the ground.

"You're going to have to have better aim than that if you want to beat me in this war," taunted Kurt. Carson frowned and picked up another ball, trying to aim it at Kurt's chest as he threw it. It ended up sailing right over Kurt's head and into the yard beyond.

"Your aim is terrible!" shouted Kurt. Carson picked up a third ball and heaved it right at his face, figuring that he would miss and it would land on his shoulder or something. To his horror, his aim was accurate this time, and the snowball landed square in the middle of Kurt's face.

"Oh, god, Kurt, I'm so sorry!" Carson shouted as he rushed over to his twin, who was standing with his gloved hands covering his face. Carson could hear him whimpering even before he reached him. Shit. How hard had the fucking snowball hit him? He hoped he hadn't hit him in the eye or something.

"Ow," Kurt whined from beneath his hands.

"Oh fuck, Kurtsie….are you ok? Oh god, I thought I would MISS, or else I wouldn't have thrown it at….OW!" Carson shouted as a snowball hit him hard in the neck.

"Payback's a bitch," Kurt said, removing his hands from his face and snickering. "By the way, that snowball sucked. It wasn't nearly hard enough to do any damage."

"You better run," said Carson, "because I am going to catch you and shove snowballs all inside your coat."

"Nooooo!" shouted Kurt, running away as fast as he could in his boots, which wasn't very fast at all. Carson caught up with him in seconds, tackling him to the snowy ground and holding him there, pinning him under his weight.

"Let me up!" Kurt said, squirming beneath Carson, who refused to budge.

"Not until you apologize."

"Why should I? You're the one who threw a snowball at my face. That's harassment, you know. I had sooo many slushie flashbacks," said Kurt.

"Letting me think you were hurt was just cruel, though," replied Carson as Kurt continued trying to wiggle free. "Do you have any idea how horrible I would feel if I accidentally hurt you?" He looked down into Kurt's face. His cheeks were red from cold and exertion, small particles of snow clinging to his long eyelashes where the snowball had hit earlier. The rest of his face looked even paler than usual, making the flushed color of his lips stand out. God, he was gorgeous. Kurt stopped struggling and looked back at him.

"You'd feel awful. I know," said Kurt quietly. He bit his lip and brought his hands up as far as he could to grip at Carson's arms. Despite the cold, Carson felt a rush of heat flood his body, making him uncomfortably hot inside his jacket. "I'm sorry," Kurt said, blinking up at him.

They stared at each other for several more seconds, both of them breathing hard, although Carson couldn't tell if his own breathing was from the exertion or the situation he was suddenly realizing he was in. He couldn't stop looking at Kurt's lips. They were so flushed and swollen and.._there_. Why couldn't he stop looking at them? He leaned his head down, and _oh god, what the fuck am I doing, no, I can't…_

In the nick of time, his kiss landed on Kurt's cheek instead of on his lips. Carson would have laughed with relief, except that he was shaking like a leaf. Kurt looked at him with his eyes open wide, his cheeks flushing an even darker red. Carson quickly got up off of Kurt as though he were on fire, holding his hand out to help him up.

"Just…don't let it happen again," he said, not sure whether he was talking to himself or answering Kurt. He brushed the snow off of his jacket and looked anywhere but at Kurt, hoping that he could calm down before Kurt noticed just how shaken up he was.

"Know what? It's actually freezing," said Kurt, carefully brushing the snow off his own ass while Carson tried not to stare. "Let's go inside."

* * *

Fortunately, Carson didn't have very much time to think about what had almost happened out in the snow (and if Kurt was thinking about it, he wasn't saying anything), because the next day he woke up feeling like absolute shit, his head pounding and his entire body feeling like it was on fire.

"Carson? Are you ok?" he heard Kurt's voice say. He felt Kurt's cool hand on his forehead as he drifted slowly into consciousness. "Oh, god, Carson, you're burning up!" Kurt exclaimed, getting out of the bed and pulling the blankets off him. "You're sick! I told you to wear something other than that stupid hoodie yesterday!"

"M'fine," Carson mumbled, burying his face in his pillow and trying to ignore the pounding in his head. And the way his throat felt full of knives whenever he tried to swallow. He wanted to tell Kurt that colds don't work like that, and that he must have picked it up from their germ factory of a high school at some point before the break started, but he couldn't find the energy.

"No, you're not fine," Kurt fretted, pressing the pads of his fingers against Carson's neck, searching for something.

"Ow," Carson groaned.

"Sorry. You have a swollen gland," Kurt said.

"So it would appear….ow," Carson groaned again. Talking hurt.

"Ok, well, you are NOT getting out of bed today, or tomorrow, or the next few days, really. You're going to stay there and I'm going to take care of you," said Kurt, his soft hand caressing Carson's cheek. "And I know you want to protest so badly, but you can just stop right there, because I won't listen to you."

Carson didn't have the energy to do much besides nod his head before he fell back asleep, Kurt's voice slowly fading away as he drifted off.

He slept fitfully, drifting in and out of consciousness as he tossed and turned, unable to get even the tiniest bit comfortable. The next time he opened his eyes, fully awake, he found himself alone in the room. Kurt was nowhere to be seen.

"Kurt?" he tried to call out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kurt appeared just then, coming down the stairs and smiling at him. "Oh, good, you woke up just in time," he said. He was holding a tray containing a bowl, a glass of water, and a small bottle of pills.

"How long was I asleep?" Carson croaked, trying to sit up and wincing at the ache that spread throughout his body.

"About four hours," replied Kurt, setting the tray on Carson's nightstand and pulling his desk chair over beside the bed to sit on. "I had to go out for a bit to pick up some things for you. We didn't have any Tylenol in the house, if you can believe it, and while I was at the store I got some stuff to make you chicken soup," he said, nodding toward the bowl on the tray.

"My head hurts," Carson whined. "And my throat. And my everything."

"I know, Carsey," Kurt said soothingly, patting his hand gently. "I took your temperature while you were sleeping. You have got SUCH a fever. Now, first I want you to take these," he ordered, opening the bottle of Tylenol and shaking out two pills, handing them to Carson along with the glass of water. Carson swallowed them down quickly, gulping at the water like he had never had it before, despite the sharp pain in his throat every time he swallowed. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until right that moment.

"Good," said Kurt approvingly, reaching for the bowl of soup and stirring it before lifting the spoon to Carson's mouth. "Now I want you to eat this."

Carson's mouth opened to accept the spoon, grateful for the relief as the warmth of the soup soothed his aching throat. "I can feed myself, you know," he said as Kurt dipped the spoon back in the bowl. "I'm sick, I'm not an infant."

"I know," said Kurt, "but I enjoy taking care of you, so shut up and let me feed you."

Carson obeyed, settling back against the pillows and letting Kurt feed him the soup spoonful by spoonful, until the bowl was empty.

"There," said Kurt, satisfied with Carson's progress. "How's your headache now? Are the meds kicking in yet?"

"Kind of," Carson said. "Still hurts, though." He shivered, despite his fever. Kurt noticed this and pulled at the blankets, tugging them up and covering Carson with them, one hand reaching up to feel his forehead again.

"My poor Carsey," he said, giving Carson's hair a light stroke. "You should try to sleep some more. I'll be right here, ok?"

Carson opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't tired, but realized that, yeah, he was. "Ok," he agreed, settling into the blankets and sighing against his pillow. "Will you sing to me?" he asked.

Kurt smiled warmly. "Of course! Any requests?"

Carson shook his head. "Whatever you want will be perfect."

Kurt thought for a minute before clearing his throat and beginning to sing.

"_525,600 minutes….525,000 moments so dear…"_

Carson smiled to himself. _Rent_. Of course. One of Kurt's musicals of choice. He let Kurt's voice settle over him as his eyes fluttered shut and he slowly fell asleep.

He woke up briefly several hours later, long enough for Kurt to make him take more pills and feed him more soup, then fell back asleep. The next time he opened his eyes, it was nighttime and Carson found himself with his head in Kurt's lap as Kurt sat up in bed reading a book.

"Hi, Sleepy," Kurt said quietly, ruffling Carson's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Cranky," Carson replied truthfully. Everything hurt again, even worse than before, and his head was pounding. "I think I'm dying," he whined.

"Oh, hush. You are not," said Kurt, putting a bookmark in his book and setting it on his bedside table.

"Yes I am, Kurt. I feel like there's a million knives sticking out of me right now. How do you know I don't have some kind of deadly disease? You're not a doctor."

Kurt snorted. "No, but I know you're not dying."

Carson pouted. "But it huuuuurts."

"It's going to hurt for a while, honey. You're sick."

Carson sighed. "Get me my notebook out of my nightstand, please. I need to write out my will while I'm still coherent enough. Oh, and I don't want Rachel at my funeral. Or Finn. Or anybody in the glee club, actually. But especially not Trollberry or Frankenteen. If either one of them shows up at my funeral, I swear, I will haunt you until the day you die."

Kurt laughed quietly. "Ok, I promise. But you're not dying. You're just a drama queen."

Carson sighed. "You shouldn't be in bed with me right now. You're going to catch whatever this is."

"I know. I don't care," replied Kurt, tracing soft circles on Carson's shoulder with the pad of his thumb. "I've already been exposed to it anyway. Damage already done. And you wouldn't be able to sleep if I wasn't here."

"That's true," Carson mumbled. "I still don't like knowing that I'm getting you sick, though."

"Well, think of it this way," said Kurt. "I take care of you now, and then when I get sick, you can return the favor. Deal?"

Carson smiled. "Deal."

With much coddling from Kurt, Carson was feeling much better several days later. Kurt, however, was not. As predicted, he had come down with Carson's illness, and it nearly broke Carson's heart to see him so miserable. Especially because he wasn't nearly as good at taking care of Kurt as Kurt was at taking care of him, but he did his best.

"Now I understand why you thought you were dying," Kurt said on his second day of being sick. "This suuuuucks."

"Is there anyone I should bar from attending _your_ funeral?" asked Carson as he handed Kurt two Tylenols.

"No, but please make sure that the funeral home makes me look good," answered Kurt. "I should probably plan what I want to wear."

"You'll do no such thing, because you're not dying," said Carson. "And if you were, there must be some demon somewhere who will make me a deal. Your life for my soul, or something."

"You'd actually sell your soul to save my life?"

"You fucking bet."

"I feel so protected and loved," Kurt said as Carson climbed into bed beside him. He leaned his head on Carson's chest and sighed deeply. "Best big brother ever."

"I know," said Carson. "Now close your eyes and get some sleep. I want you better _yesterday."_

* * *

By the time the new semester started up at McKinley, Carson had mostly forgotten all about the almost-kiss in the snow. The more he had thought about it, the more he had decided that it must have just been a completely random occurrence. He was a teenage boy, after all, and he had wild hormones just like every other teenage boy. He didn't socialize much, other than with Kurt, so of course that had almost happened. It made perfect sense, really. He would just have to learn to control himself better. That last thing he needed was a repeat.

So he forgot about it and dove headfirst into the new semester, concentrating hard on his classes and his work on the _Muckraker._ Several seniors had joined the newspaper staff after the break, apparently in a panic that they didn't have much in the way of extracurriculars to their name for colleges to be excited about. No matter their reason for being there, they were at least helpful. Carson's workload decreased dramatically (although, make no mistake, he definitely still called all the shots), and people actually started reading the paper. He assumed they did, anyway. He had spotted people around the school holding copies, so he just preferred to think they were planning on reading it instead of lining their cats' litter boxes with it or something.

Sure, he still had to deal with the idiots in glee club, but hey, baby steps. He had faith that any day now, a large alligator would scoop up Rachel on her way to school and swallow her whole, regurgitating her crushed bones onto the ground when it was through. He could dream. Life was going pretty well for him.

And then, one fine morning in early February, Kurt came upstairs from their room dressed in the male version of the McKinley High Cheerios uniform.

Carson was already at the table, calmly eating his cereal, which he very nearly choked on when Kurt made his entrance.

"Kurt," he croaked, coughing around the stuck bits of cereal in his throat. "What the fuck are you _wearing?"_

"My new uniform," replied Kurt cheerfully, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. "Coach Sylvester invited Mercedes and me to be on the Cheerios as her newly added vocal component. You like it?"

"Yeah, I...she just asked you? That's weird. I thought she hated the glee kids," Carson mused, trying desperately not to notice how fucking sexy Kurt looked in that damn uniform (and failing).

Kurt shrugged. "Yeah, I guess she didn't think much of the Madonna makeover we tried to give her, but...hey. Cheerios. We weren't going to turn down that offer, especially since we talked it over and we agreed that this would give us the spotlight we're being constantly denied in the glee club. Now that Rachel's boy toy Jesse has joined, you know damn well I've been pretty much screwed out of ever getting a solo."

Carson nodded. He actually didn't mind Jesse, because he was a sarcastic jerk to pretty much everyone, just like Carson, and wasn't afraid to tell people when they sucked. If it wasn't for Jesse's demonstration of extremely poor judgment by dating Rachel, Carson thought he almost could have been friends with the boy. However, Kurt did have a point. Jesse came to them fresh from being the male lead in Vocal Adrenaline, so Mr. Schue was probably clamoring to start handing him solos on a silver platter, and Kurt would definitely never get one now. Carson could see how joining the Cheerios would be a tempting offer for him.

Not to mention that uniform, because Jesus Christ, that thing was doing Kurt _so_many favors. Especially around his ass, and..._fuck, I have GOT to stop staring at his ass. This is becoming a problem. Snap the fuck out of it, Carson._

"So...um...when's your first performance?" Carson asked, trying to sound casual.

"Pep assembly in a few days. Coach is just going to insert us into the routine," replied Kurt.

"Great! I'll be there," said Carson.

"What, I don't have to pout and beg you to come watch me?" Kurt asked. "I'm kind of disappointed. I like the pout."

"You can pout if you want to," said Carson. "Not going to stop you."

"Nope, the moment is ruined," said Kurt. "No pout for you."

"Aw, come on," Carson prodded. "I don't feel like you _really_ want me there enough if you aren't willing to pout for it. Besides, I need to feel like I'm being forced to go just for you, otherwise it looks like I'm going soft and becoming less cynical and surly in my old age."

Kurt raised his eyebrows and gave him a hard look. Then he sucked his bottom lip inside his mouth and frowned, making the face he knew was a weakness for Carson. "Pleeeease, Carsey. Please come watch me perform my very first Cheerios number at the pep assembly."

"Ah, there we go. Much better. Yes, Kurt, I will go to the pep assembly just for the privilege of watching you perform," Carson answered, getting up and patting Kurt gingerly on the back before rinsing out his bowl and sticking it in the dishwasher.

"Great, now let's go before we're late," said Kurt, shaking his head.

* * *

Carson had no idea how the hell he managed to concentrate on school over the next few days with Kurt wearing that damn uniform. Actually, it was safe to say that he _didn't_concentrate. He honestly couldn't say what he had learned, if anything, because all he was doing when Kurt was around was taking in the way his body looked in that tight uniform. It was...fuck, it was just amazing. The way the top was stretched taught over Kurt's chest, and the way the pants hugged his ass just right.

_I think I have some sort of perverted mental illness,_ Carson thought on more than one occasion. _Like, seriously, I am not normal. This is NOT normal. It can't be normal to be obsessing over how your own twin brother's ass looks in a cheerleading uniform, even if he IS hot and even if his ass IS the best ass you've ever seen on anybody in the entire history of the fucking world._

It only got worse when the day of the pep assembly arrived and Carson sat in the bleachers nervously, tapping his foot so much that Quinn Fabray turned around and glared in his direction. He glared right back at her. She could just shut the fuck up, because he had problems to worry about. Like, for example, if he could manage to watch Kurt perform in that uniform without breaking out into hives.

The performance soon started and Kurt and Mercedes took their places among the crowd of cheerleaders, dancing to the perfectly choreographed routine as the music for Madonna's "4 Minutes" filled the gym. Carson zeroed in on his brother, ignoring every other person. He literally could not take his eyes off Kurt. The building could have crumbled all around him, for all he would have noticed, because all that existed was Kurt out on that gymnasium floor. Carson had never seen anything so fucking hot in his entire life. Then Kurt let out a deep grunt after singing his first verse, and Carson developed an even bigger problem. Literally.

Because there was suddenly an awful lot of blood travelling south.

_Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my fuck, no, not here. Not...not while I'm watching this, please. FUCK. Just...fuck, GO DOWN. Please. Please? Oh god, PLEASE? This is really not the time to get a fucking boner, oh my fuck. PLEASE GO DOWN. DOWN. DOWN DOWN DOWN. Shit._

His silent pleading with his dick was fruitless. It didn't listen to him, just strained harder against the fabric of his jeans. He quickly grabbed for his messenger bag and placed it over his lap, pretending that he had to root through it right that very minute for something extremely important as he snuck glances over to where Kurt was still dancing in that fucking sinful uniform, which wasn't helping his situation one bit.

_Why me?_ he thought miserably as he tried to think about unsexy things._Um..ok...uh...dead puppies...bird shit on the car windows...um...that dirty diaper I almost stepped in once in the parking lot of the grocery store before Kurt pointed it out….oh god, no, Carson, don't think of Kurt, that isn't helping…anything but him…anything…um..ok…Finn naked…OH GOD MY POOR BRAIN...Rachel...Rachel's boobs...eeeeew, oh god, why the fuck did I just think about...oh...well...those things seem to have solved my problem,_ he thought with relief. He somehow managed to make it through the rest of the performance and stood up quickly, making sure Kurt saw him wave before he hauled ass out of that gym. He held his bag tightly in front of him, just in case. He was quite sure he was screwed if Kurt was going to wear that uniform every day from now on. There was no way he could deal with this torture on a daily basis. No fucking way.

_He was back in the bleachers, but he was the only one this time. Nobody else was there. The only other person in the gym was Kurt, out on the floor performing the "4 Minutes" routine all by himself, everything seeming to happen in slow motion. Carson's eyes travelled down to Kurt's ass, which looked so fucking round in those Cheerio pants, even better than it looked in his usual clothes, which was saying something, because Kurt's ass always looked fantastic. Kurt swiveled his hips sensually as he continued to dance, and Carson was struck with a barrage of so many inappropriate thoughts just from those hips that he barely noticed that Kurt was bending over now, slowly straightening back up as he trailed his hands up his legs, and oh god THAT ASS. Carson could feel it happening again before he could stop it. He could feel his pants becoming tighter as his stupid traitor of a dick filled with blood, and oh FUCK, where was his bag? WHERE WAS IT? Kurt was definitely going to notice this, shit..._

Carson's eyes snapped open and he blinked furiously, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of the bedroom. It had just been a dream. Thank god, it was just a dream. He was in his bed and pressed up against Kurt, and...oh, fuck. At least one part of that had not been a dream. And that part was currently dangerously close to poking into Kurt's back.

Carson scrambled out of bed as quietly as he could, praying he didn't disturb Kurt in the process. He hurled himself into their attached bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind him and glaring down at the hardness tenting his pajama bottoms.

"I hate you," he whispered to it. "You're the fucking WORST." He bit his lip to keep from moaning as he palmed himself just a little to relieve some of the pressure. He wondered how much of a sick pervert it would make him if he were to quickly take care of his problem and then get back to bed before Kurt woke up and noticed he was gone. He decided he didn't care. His will was only so strong. Nobody had to know, right?

He slowly pushed his pajama bottoms down and wet his hand with water from the sink, taking hold of his erection and slowly stroking. He tried to think about anything but Kurt, anything at all, but unfortunately his brain had other ideas. The image of Kurt moving in that uniform filled his head as he stroked himself faster, arriving at the edge quickly, much to his relief. Thank fuck, this would be over soon and he could forget about it and try to go back to normalcy. He could work on not staring at Kurt's ass at every opportunity, even if it _was_ the most gorgeous thing ever to grace those Cheerio pants, and...

Thinking about Kurt's ass apparently did it for him, and he bit down on his lip to keep quiet as he came hard over his hand, stroking himself through it and practically whimpering as he shivered through the aftershocks.

_You're a sick fuck_, he admonished himself as he cleaned himself up_. He's your brother, you asshole. You can't keep letting this happen. Next time you jerk off, try to think of normal shit, ok? Fuck._

He pulled his pants back up and quietly snuck back into bed. Thankfully, Kurt was still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling as he took deep breaths. Carson sighed with relief and wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. He could feel Kurt's heartbeat through his clothes, the heartbeat of the person he loved more than anything in this stupid world, the person he would do anything for. And suddenly he felt even more disgusted with himself for what he had just done. God, what was _wrong_ with him? Why did this shit keep happening to him? And fuck, what would Kurt think if he knew? He'd probably be so freaked out and uncomfortable, and Carson wouldn't blame him one bit.

He tightened his hold around Kurt and pressed a kiss to the top of his hair. Kurt stirred a little, but didn't wake up. Carson could feel the muscles in Kurt's arms underneath his fingers and felt a wave of guilt hit him like a freight train.

_I'm sorry, Kurtsie. I won't let that happen again, I promise. Forgive me?_


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: As usual, thank you guys for all the lovely reviews, and the support on Tumblr! It thrills us so much that people are loving this fic, you don't even know.**

In hindsight, Carson thought he really should have recognized the first sign of trouble afoot when Kurt decided, seemingly out of the blue, that their bedroom needed to be redecorated. Carson had caught him one evening sitting on their bed and looking thoughtfully through an abundance of wallpaper swatches, his lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated.

"What are you doing?" Carson had asked innocently, settling down beside him and slinging one arm casually over his shoulder, surveying the array of swatches laid out in front of Kurt. "New project?"

"Yeah," Kurt had replied, his mind clearly a million miles away. "I think it's time our room got a new look, don't you?"

"Uh…" Carson said, looking around at their already impeccably decorated bedroom. "I guess? What's wrong with the way it is now?"

"Nothing," Kurt had said, "I guess I just think it's time we updated it to reflect more…diverse tastes."

"OK," said Carson, confused but willing to go along with it if it was what Kurt wanted. Something in his gut was telling him that there was something up that Kurt wasn't telling him about, but he pushed it aside, concentrating on the intoxicating way Kurt smelled. He had used the coconut scented body wash that day, and Carson thought it had to be the best scent in the entire world as he rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder to breathe it in deeply. Who cared why Kurt was looking at wallpaper, as long as he was happy?

The next sign that there was something going on that Carson wasn't privy to was the fact that their father had started mysteriously going out at night after work, looking unusually happy and usually stopping to ask Kurt his opinion on his clothes before leaving.

"What's up with that?" Carson had asked Kurt on several occasions. "You don't think he's, like, dating or something, do you?"

"What? Oh…no, I…I wouldn't worry," Kurt had always replied. "I'm sure he probably just has a new social circle." Carson couldn't help but notice that Kurt avoided his gaze and instantly busied himself with some insignificant task every time this was brought up. Kurt obviously knew more than he was letting on. This went on for about a month, but Carson tried not to worry about it too much. It helped that these nights usually meant him and Kurt lounging around on the living room couch watching one of Kurt's musicals or a romantic comedy. Carson would snark his way through the movie while Kurt lay with his head in Carson's lap, occasionally rolling his eyes at his comments but mostly laughing. It was quite pleasant.

Carson's suspicion took a sudden, horrifying turn one day after glee club when he overheard Kurt asking Finn's opinion on the wallpaper swatches. Why the hell would he want Finn's opinion, of all people? Sure, he had a weird crush on the guy that Carson couldn't even begin to wrap his brain around, but even Kurt had to know that Finn's knowledge of interior decorating was about on par with that of a goldfish.

A disturbing thought began to worm its way into Carson's brain, a thought he absolutely refused to let come to the surface. There was no way….surely there was NO WAY. No, of course not. He was just being stupid. Just….the very thought! It was absolutely ridiculous. The universe wouldn't be so cruel. It couldn't possibly. Right?

Wrong, as it turned out. Very, very, horrifyingly _wrong._

"What do you MEAN, you're dating Finn's mother?" Carson exclaimed, horrified at the words that had just come out of his father's mouth. It was a Friday night, and he, Kurt, and their dad were sitting at the kitchen table for their weekly dinner together, one of the few things that had continued on after their mother's death. It had been a perfectly routine dinner, until Burt had announced that he had something to tell them. He had then uttered the absolutely horrible words that Carson still refused to believe he had actually heard.

"I mean exactly what I said," Burt said calmly through a mouthful of chicken. "I've been seeing Carole Hudson for almost a month now, and I thought I should officially let you boys know, since it looks like it might be getting serious."

"But…I mean….WHY?" Carson practically whined. He didn't like where this was headed. "You aren't getting married, are you? Because I don't want Finn as a stepbrother! I just….I couldn't handle that!"

"No, Carson, we're not getting married any time soon, but we _are_ considering living together in the near future, and I will fully expect you to treat both Finn and his mother with respect," Burt said firmly. Carson pushed his food around his plate, having suddenly lost any and all semblance of an appetite.

"How the f…how did you even meet her anyway?" he grumbled.

"Kurt introduced us at the parent/teacher conference last month," Burt answered, looking between the twins. "Kurt, why doesn't he know this? I thought you said you told him."

"No, he didn't," Carson said, shooting a glance Kurt's way. Kurt looked like a deer caught in the headlights, which definitely confirmed what their dad had just said. What the FUCK? Kurt had known this whole time and had kept it from him? "Kurt,_why_? How could you do this to me?"

Kurt was silent for a minute as he slowly and deliberately chewed his food. "I just thought that Dad could use someone new in his life," he said at last, carefully placing his fork on his empty plate and clasping his hands together.

"And that someone just conveniently happened to be the mother of Finn Hudson, of all people?" Carson asked, his arms crossed across his chest. Kurt gave him a look that was pleading with him to shut up, and Carson understood this to mean that Burt didn't know a thing about Kurt's crush on Finn. Carson closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying hard to be calm and keep the sharpness out of his voice. "And you didn't think that this was maybe something that I should know about?" he asked, his head suddenly pounding. "You know, considering how _I can't stand Finn?_"

"Actually, that's why I didn't tell you," said Kurt, looking uncomfortable. He cast his eyes down toward his plate and nervously played with his fingers. "I knew you'd be mad, and-"

"Mad?" Carson exclaimed. "More like in the mood to smash things! So many things!"

"Boys!" Burt interrupted, exasperation creeping into his voice. "Look, I know this is going to be something that's going to take some getting used to for both of you. And Carson, I'm sorry you didn't have any idea. But there's no use blowing your top over it. Carole and I are only _considering_ living together right now, alright? It's not set in stone. So can we please just have a pleasant evening?"

"I guess," Carson grumbled. He still didn't feel very much like eating anymore. As stupid as it was, he felt betrayed. He couldn't understand why Kurt would do something like this, knowing how Carson felt about Finn.

They finished their dinner in silence, Kurt sneaking glances over at Carson the whole time, which Carson ignored. Nobody said much of anything other than Kurt quietly volunteering for dish duty when the meal was over. Carson walked out of the kitchen, intending to go down to their bedroom and leave Kurt to do the dishes alone, but the sad look he caught on his brother's face as he passed him made him stop in his tracks. He sighed and backed up, deciding to stay behind with him. He may have felt pissed at the moment, but he still couldn't stand to see Kurt looking so miserable.

"Here, let me help," he said, taking a plate out of Kurt's hands and running it under the water in the sink before placing it in the dishwasher. He could feel Kurt's eyes on him as he worked, even though he wasn't looking.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said as he passed Carson another plate. Carson sighed and turned to face him.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, trying to sound calm and not as irritated as he felt. "Of all the people you could have set Dad up with, you chose her? This wasn't really about Dad at all, was it, Kurt? It was about Finn. You want Finn living here. No matter how much it will make me want to throw up every minute of every day."

Kurt crossed his arms and looked down at his feet, not answering him.

"And why do you want to make him your stepbrother?" Carson continued. "I don't get it. I mean, not that I care, and not that I would ever approve of it anyway, but him being family would actually make it that much harder for you to be in a relationship with him." Something unreadable flashed across Kurt's face, but Carson barely noticed as he realized the irony in what he had just said.

"So, are you mad at me?" Kurt asked after a moment of silence, lifting his head up, his lip quivering as he bit down on it slightly. Carson's heart broke for him. He crossed over to Kurt and enveloped him in a tight hug. "No, Kurt, I'm not mad at you, I'm just…it's a lot to take in," he said.

"I know," Kurt said, hugging Carson back just as tightly, if not tighter. Carson decided that, for Kurt's sake, he would suck it up and try not to worry. After all, their dad _had_ said that nothing was set in stone.

_Nothing is set in stone, nothing is set in stone, nothing is set in stone_, Carson repeated to himself, hoping desperately that the day would never come when he would have to share a house with Finn Hudson.

* * *

Kurt was sorry for doing this to Carson, he really was, but he had to. He had no other choice. If Carson only knew his real reasons for setting their dad up with Carole Hudson, he would understand why it had to be done. He would also probably feel really creeped out and never look at Kurt the same way again, so Kurt hoped he never found out the real reason.

It had been that stupid snowball fight over winter vacation. Well, it hadn't started with that, but it was definitely the catalyst for Kurt's decision. He had been noticing his changing relationship with Carson for a long time now, ever since last summer when the two of them had gone to the local community pool almost every day to beat both the heat and their boredom. Kurt had not been able to stop noticing just how good Carson had started to look shirtless, no matter how much he tried, and no matter how disturbed he was to be checking out his own twin's body. It was just there in his face, and he was pretty powerless to stop looking. Then, one day, Kurt had slipped on a stray puddle of water on his way to collect his towel. Carson, of course, had been right there to catch his fall, and Kurt had suddenly found himself pressed up against the very chest he'd been trying not to eye all summer. And, ok, touching Carson's chest wasn't anything new, since they never wore shirts to bed in the summertime and usually ended up sleeping curled into each other. The difference, though, was that when Kurt got hard from it at night, he was always facing away from a sleeping Carson and didn't have to worry about his problem being discovered. This was an entirely different story.

"Careful, Kurtsie. You ok?" Carson had asked, setting him upright and keeping a grip on his arm.

"Fine," Kurt had squeaked, grabbing his towel quickly and frantically wrapping it around his shivering body, even though his shivers had nothing to do with being cold, and praying that Carson hadn't glanced down. Ever since then, it had been a constant battle for Kurt to suppress the inappropriate thoughts that kept sneaking their way into his brain. It was a battle he won most of the time, but every so often he would think something like _"God, he looks good in those glasses_" or "_Those jeans make his ass look really good_," and he would mentally chastise himself. _What would Carson say if he knew what you were thinking, you pervert? Stop it. Just stop it. _

And then that stupid snowball fight had happened. Kurt remembered Carson chasing him and pinning him down onto the snow-covered ground, and how he had felt a surge of heat flood him as Carson pressed him there with his weight on top of him. Kurt had felt dizzy and had quickly stopped struggling to get up. He wasn't sure he ever wanted Carson to let him up. And then something had happened and Carson had leaned his face down, and Kurt had been so sure that he was going to kiss him, and his heart had started beating a million miles a minute. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed when Carson just kissed his cheek, as he had done thousands of times before. _Of course_, Kurt had thought. _Of course he wasn't going to kiss me. Why did I think that? What's wrong with me that I would actually WANT that?_ To put it frankly, the way he felt was scaring him.

Hence the reason why he threw himself headfirst into pursuing Finn, no matter how straight and uninterested the boy was. Kurt knew he had no chance with him. He knew, but he didn't care. Focusing on another boy, any other boy, was better than living with such impure thoughts about his brother. And it wasn't like he didn't actually have feelings for Finn. He did. He wasn't sure whether or not they were love, exactly, but they could have been. Maybe love didn't require a constant butterfly feeling in your stomach. Maybe that's what made it "true love," or whatever.

So, Kurt had convinced himself that his thoughts about Carson were just the result of him being a lonely, gay teenage boy in a small town with hardly any romantic prospects. It made perfect sense. Kurt had actually laughed out loud with relief when he realized this.

"What's so funny?" Carson had asked from behind the laptop he was clacking away at.

"Oh…nothing," Kurt had answered cheerily. Nothing was wrong. Not anymore. He was sure of it. Or, at least, there wouldn't be once he had a permanent, live-in distraction.

* * *

Carson may have vowed to suck it up and not worry, but he was still anything but happy about the situation. In fact, he was about as far away from happy as it was possible to be. He tried not to roll his eyes or let his feelings show whenever Burt left the house for a date, or when Kurt disappeared over to the Hudson's house for hours, saying he was going to give Carole a makeover, or when he caught Kurt with various catalogues, picking out new furniture for the soon-to-be-redecorated bedroom. Really, he tried. But, well….easier said than done. Just the thought that he may eventually have to share a bedroom with Finn made him break out in a cold sweat. Usually, he calmed down by remembering that, if he was going to be forced to live with him eventually, at least Finn would be close enough to kill.

He was in the middle of thinking that in the middle of glee club one day when his train of thought was interrupted by Kurt speaking up next to him.

"Mr. Schue? If I may?" he asked, raising one finger in the air. Carson hadn't been paying attention to whatever was being discussed, so he had no idea what Kurt had in mind as he got up from his seat and stood in front of the piano, facing the club.

"New Directions is clearly a club with a dearth of direction," he began, one hand planted on his hip. "Rachel and Jesse refuse to accept that all of us would rather die before we allow them to become the next Beyonce and Jay-Z, and Finn's mother's romance with my father is sending him into a wholly unnecessary tailspin of despair."

_I seriously should start paying attention during club meetings, because I have no idea what he's getting at_, thought Carson as he busied himself with thoughts of how Kurt's Cheerio uniform was looking particularly good on him today.

"What we all need right now is to explore the idea of a sense of place," Kurt continued, picking up a stack of sheet music off the piano and handing it to Mr. Schue to hand out to the club, "and how, if we find that place within, we will get that happy ending." He finished this little speech with a flirty look in Finn's direction, which Carson was not at all amused by. He was even less amused when Kurt then launched into a rendition of "A House Is Not a Home" which was clearly directed at Finn.

_What the hell? Kurt, how does this song even make any sense? You don't need Finn to make your house a home. You have me, you know….your voice is beautiful, though. Just like always. Even if you ARE singing to an overgrown chimp. Finn looks uncomfortable. Oh, that's just delicious. Also, fuck you, Finn. You should be grateful and feel lucky that you're being serenaded by Kurt right now. _

He may not have approved of the song's message, but Kurt still sang it beautifully, so Carson clapped enthusiastically when he finished, the extremely melancholy look on Kurt's face as he turned around to face the piano not escaping his notice. Did he really want Finn_ that_ badly? _Come on, Kurt, he's not worth it. You can do so much better. You DESERVE so much better. Why waste your time on Finn? Even if he was capable of returning your feelings, he would never appreciate you. Fuck, look at how he treated Rachel for the week and a half they were a couple. Not that I care about Rachel's feelings, but shit._

"Kurt, what was that?" he asked as the two of them left the choir room after the bell.

"What was what?" Kurt replied in his "I'm going to pretend I'm innocent and have no idea what you mean" voice.

"You know damn well what," said Carson. "All that stuff about a house not being a home. FINN is what completes your home? Really?"

"I have to go, Carson. I'll be late for Cheerios practice," Kurt mumbled, hurrying down the hall toward the gym. Carson watched him go and sighed, shaking his head._Sometimes, even I don't understand what goes on in your brain, Kurt._

The following night was one of the most awkward of Carson's life as the Hummels met up with Finn and his mother at Breadstix for dinner. Carson would rather have been having dental work done than have to suffer through the experience of eating a meal with Finn, but he had no choice. The minute he had started to protest, his father had given him a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that he was going and that he was to behave. Carson made sure to slide into the booth after Finn when they arrived at their table, counting it as a small victory that he at least had put himself between Finn and Kurt. The irritated look Kurt shot him (and the fact that Carson was going to be stuck sitting next to Finn for the duration of the meal) were small prices to pay for that, he figured.

Surprisingly, he managed to make it through the meal without incident, mostly because Finn didn't say much and looked just as miserable to be there as Carson felt. His mom was nice enough, Carson decided, but not nice enough that he would be willing to share a living space with Finn. Maybe if they could ship Finn off to boarding school…

"A toast!" Kurt said toward the end of the meal, raising his virgin Shirley Temple into the air. "Tonight is a momentous occasion. It marks the first real communion between the Hummel and the Hudson clan." Carson somehow managed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. _Really, Kurt?_

"I imagine that when the Bouviers and the Kennedys first broke bread, there was a similar sense of joy and urgency," Kurt continued. "So, let me raise my Shirley Temple to our new little family!" he finished with a smile, clanking his glass together with the adults'.

The conversation quickly turned into a football discussion between Finn and Burt, and if Kurt thought nobody noticed his dejected expression as he was shut out of the conversation, he was wrong. Because Carson noticed. Carson always noticed.

He also noticed that Kurt was extremely quiet for the entire ride home that night and barely said a word as the twins went down to their room, and he noticed that Kurt was sitting at his vanity table with tears in his eyes as Carson emerged from the bathroom after taking a shower. He didn't bother asking Kurt what was wrong, because he already knew. He just crossed over to him and threw his arms around him from behind, hugging him tight as one of Kurt's hands came up to grip at his arm.

* * *

Carson slammed the car door shut and made his way into the house, leaning against the door as he shut it and closing his eyes. It had been an extremely long day at school, and he had skipped glee club that afternoon. He just couldn't deal with anyone's bullshit today. He had gone straight to Sunny Pastures to visit his grandmother instead. Unfortunately, it turned out to be one of those days on which she threw him out of the room, so he had just accepted defeat and gone home.

He shuffled into the kitchen and was surprised to see Kurt sitting at the table, still in his Cheerio uniform and playing absentmindedly with the edge of the fruit bowl.

"You're home early," Carson said, checking the clock on the stove. "Was Cheerios practice cancelled or something?"

Kurt looked up at him. "No. I just decided I didn't feel like going."

"Ok, what's wrong?" Carson asked, taking a seat across from him. "You sound like you just found out that they won't be making those sweaters you like anymore. The ones with all the buttons and shit."

Kurt gave him a tight smile. "Funny."

"No, seriously, what's wrong?" Carson asked.

"I saw Dad at school today," Kurt replied.

"Wait, what? What was he doing there? I didn't see him."

"Well, that's because he was only there to pick up Finn in order to take him to some stupid baseball game," Kurt said glumly. "Because Finn is obviously the son he always wanted. Neither of us were ever into sports, and now he's just eating this up."

"So? We DO hate sports. I mean, I hate Finn, but at least this way Dad has someone to do all that boring sports crap with," replied Carson.

"Yeah, but that's not the point," Kurt said, crossing his arms. "The point is that all of a sudden, he'd rather do things with Finn than with either of us."

"Aaaaw, Kurtsie's jealous," teased Carson. "May I just take this moment to point out that this wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't decided to play matchmaker?"

"Shut up," Kurt mumbled, picking a kiwi out of the fruit bowl and throwing it at Carson.

"Hey! Don't throw fruit at me," Carson protested, setting the kiwi back in the bowl. "I was just making an observation."

Kurt glared at him and didn't say anything. Carson sighed. "Since we'll probably be on our own all night, why don't we have one of those movie marathons that you love so much, and I'll even refrain from making too many snarky comments. Ok? Will that make you feel better?"

Kurt considered the offer. "I kind of like your snarky comments, though."

"Fine, then I'll make all the snarky comments."

"And I want to watch _Titanic_," said Kurt.

"Ok, we'll watch _Titanic_," answered Carson. "Pizza for dinner, then? I know it's not quite dinner time yet, but I'm ravenous."

"Ok," replied Kurt, a smile forming on his face. "I'll go shower and change out of this damn uniform while you order it. Oh, and by the way, you totally picked the wrong day to skip glee club."

"Why's that?" asked Carson.

"Because GUESS who has lost their voice and absolutely murdered the song they tried to sing for this week's assignment?" Kurt asked with a devilish grin.

"Certainly not….I don't dare hope it was…" Carson said excitedly as Kurt nodded his head, his grin growing bigger.

"Oh my god, Trollberry has lost her pipes? Fuuuuuuuck, why did I skip today of all days?" Carson exclaimed. "I would have given anything to be there in order to laugh like a hyena at her expense!"

"Thought you might enjoy that," said Kurt. "Thankfully, I had the foresight to start recording it on my phone for you. It was rather easy to be discreet. I am awesome."

"Oh hell YES! You are the BEST!" Carson said, making grabby hands as Kurt pulled his phone out of his bag. "Gimme!"

"Here," Kurt said, handing him the phone. "Use it to order the pizza first before you lose yourself in the wonderful joy that is Rachel being unable to sing."

He headed down to their room and Carson busied himself with first calling the pizza place, and then sitting down to play the video Kurt had recorded. Words could not even begin to express the amusement and sheer glee he felt at watching Rachel hit wrong note after wrong note. He hoped she was planning on continuing to attend glee club rehearsals, because he was going to have SO much fun giving her shit about it.

Kurt emerged from the basement just as the pizza arrived, and they settled themselves on the floor in front of the TV with the pizza box and a stack of napkins, watching _Titanic_ for what seemed like the hundredth time to Carson. It was one of Kurt's favorites. Carson's attention was focused more on Kurt than on the movie as Kurt unconsciously mouthed along to most of Kate WInslet's lines.

Somewhere along the way Carson ended up sitting against the couch with Kurt settled between his legs, his warm back pressed to Carson's front and his head on his chest. Carson could lean forward and breathe in the fresh, clean scent of Kurt's hair this way. It smelled like strawberries today. He felt Kurt let out a shuddering breath as the movie neared its end.

"You know," Carson said, clasping his hands around Kurt's middle, "If Rose had just moved her ass over a few inches, there would have been more than enough room for both of them on that door."

Kurt snorted and brought his hands up to dry the tears that had spilled down his face while watching the movie. "You say that every time, and every time I tell you that it wasn't about room on the door, it was about distribution of weight. Sure, they both could have fit on the door, but with two people weighing it down, they would still be halfway in the water. And then both of them would have froze to death."

"Ok, ok, point taken. So hypothetically, if we were on a sinking ship, and we couldn't get a lifeboat, and we ended up in the middle of the ocean, and there was only one thing to float on, which one of us gets it?" Carson asked.

"Honestly? I'd let you have it," said Kurt, craning his neck to look back at Carson. "You'd need it. You wouldn't have as many layers of clothing to keep you warm as I would."

"Good point," said Carson, "But no, I would insist that you take it. If you froze to death, I couldn't live with myself."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the movie.

* * *

The baseball game was only the first of many things that their dad had started doing with Finn, unfortunately. The two of them were spending more and more quality bonding time together, and it was killing Carson to see Kurt looking more and more dejected every time it happened. Of the two of them, Kurt had always been the closest to Burt, and Carson could only imagine how terrible it felt for him to watch their dad spending all the father/son time with Finn that he used to spend with Kurt. It was only a matter of time, Carson thought, before Kurt's patience snapped. Which, as it turned out, happened a few days later as Carson came home from Sunny Pastures to find Kurt sitting in their room dressed like….well…not dressed like himself, that was for sure. In fact, he was dressed an awful lot like…

"Um, Kurt? Why are you dressed like Dad?" Carson asked, taking in Kurt's appearance and grimacing. This was so _not_ the Kurt he knew and loved.

"What do you mean? I'm just working on my glee assignment, that's all. I'm doing a John Mellencamp song to reflect the way I feel about myself right now, and these clothes are now the new me," replied Kurt in a voice several octaves lower than it usually was. Carson gaped at him.

"MELLENCAMP?"

Kurt nodded and waved a piece of sheet music in the air, as if to prove his point. Carson shook his head.

"Have you lost your freaking mind? Kurt, this isn't you! This isn't you at ALL! I know you too well for this crap to work on me, so spill it. What brought this on? Is this about Dad and his newfound love of talking about boring-ass sports with Finn?"

"No," Kurt said a little too quickly. "Not at all. People change, Carson. I've realized that this is who I really am, and I'm embracing it. I hope you can accept it, too."

Carson pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Clearly, he wasn't going to get anywhere with Kurt right now. His twin was stubborn if he was anything, and he had obviously decided that he needed to do whatever the fuck it was he was trying to do. Carson decided it would probably be easier just to let this run its course instead of argue with him. "Ok, Kurt. Fine. I accept you and..um…I hope you're happy with your new look," he said slowly. "I'm gonna go shower now."

"Ok," replied Kurt casually, flopping back down in his seat and staring at his sheet music._ Honestly, I love that boy to death, but sometimes I just can't with him,_thought Carson.

Kurt was still rocking his "new look" for the next several days, and it was obvious as hell that he wasn't comfortable with it at all. And on top of that, to both Carson's horror and amusement, Kurt added a girlfriend, of all things, to complete his new image. He hadn't thought Kurt would actually consider Brittany's offer to date him after she heard him sing "Pink Houses" in glee club, but lo and behold, Carson came home one afternoon to find the ditzy cheerleader sitting at the kitchen table with Kurt. The two of them were playing a game, which Carson identified as Candyland when he got close enough, and one of Brittany's hands rested casually on Kurt's thigh, which Kurt looked less than thrilled about.

"Um…ok, what the hell," Carson said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Hi, Other Kurt!" said Brittany brightly. She looked over at Kurt and frowned. "Hey, where do you keep your cloning machine? I keep meaning to ask you but then I forget. Can I use it? It would be so awesome to have a second me."

Kurt was clearly trying not to roll his eyes. Carson felt an evil smile start to form on his own lips as he cleared his throat and set his bag down.

"Oh, he doesn't keep it here, Brittany," he said in as serious a voice as he could muster. "He can't, you see. Too easy for the space aliens to find it."

"Aliens? Like the ones on that ship where I got probed?" Brittany asked.

"Uh…yeah. Anyway, like I said, Kurt can't keep it here, because if the aliens find it, then they would use it to multiply their army numbers, and then, well…it would be all-out war between earth and space," Carson said seriously, hanging his head sadly. "It would be terrible."

"Wait, what does multiplying have to do with aliens?" asked Brittany, clearly confused. "They make me do that in math class all the time, and nothing bad ever happened."

Carson glanced over at Kurt, who looked extremely tired. He must have been having to deal with Brittany's idiocy nonstop all day, poor guy.

"Just trust me when I say it would be horrible," said Carson, grabbing an apple and taking a huge bite. "The devastation would be monumental." He watched with amusement as Brittany tried to process the complicated words, a frown forming on her face.

"I still want to use the machine," she said.

"Well, as I said, Kurt doesn't _usually_ tell people where he keeps it, but…" Carson said, trailing his words off and giving Kurt a mischievous grin, "…he can usually be persuaded to talk if you give him a great, big kiss right on the lips."

The icy look Kurt gave him could have froze the hottest desert as Brittany smiled and leaned over in her chair, planting a huge kiss on Kurt's mouth before he had time to react.

"B…Brit…BRITTANY, he's kidding!" Kurt said,prying her off of him and bringing one hand up to wipe his lips. "We don't have a cloning machine."

Brittany just looked from Kurt to Carson, confusion clouding her face. Carson thought that must be her default expression. "Wait, did I kiss the wrong one?" she mused out loud, staring at Carson's mouth. Right, the hell with this. Carson got up from his seat at the table and grabbed onto Kurt's hand. "Hey, Brittany, can you tell me what 6x8 is?" he asked sweetly. Brittany's face took on a look of pure concentration at his words and Carson pulled Kurt into the living room.

"Ok, now that we have a few minutes, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?" Carson asked Kurt. "I mean, come on. First the clothes and now you're pretending to date Brittany? By the way, if you were going to get yourself a beard, you probably should have picked one that doesn't have the mental capacity of a drunk toddler."

"Oh my god, Carson, just leave me alone," Kurt whined. "I have my reasons, ok?"

"I know you do, Kurt. You're doing it because you want Dad to pay attention to you. But Kurtsie, this isn't the way to go about it. In case you haven't noticed, it isn't exactly working, and you're just more miserable than ever. Wouldn't you at least be happier being yourself?"

"I am being myself," retorted Kurt. "I'm so myself that I'm going to go downstairs right now with…with my girlfriend…and make out with her and stuff." He turned on his heel and marched back into the kitchen, taking Brittany by the hand and leading her to the basement door.

"But I haven't figured out the answer yet," she said.

"Never mind that," Kurt grumbled, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and hanging it on the doorknob as he and Brittany disappeared down the stairs. Carson walked over to it and shook his head as he read what it said.

**_"DO NOT ENTER UNDER _****_ANY _****_CIRCUMSTANCES. I'M MAKING OUT WITH A GIRL."_**

_Oh, Kurtsie,_ thought Carson as he put away the game that had been left out on the table. _What am I going to do with you?_

* * *

"Your hands are really soft," Brittany said wonderingly as she and Kurt walked down the school hallway holding hands. Carson walked several steps behind them, unsure whether or not he was amused enough anymore to want to laugh.

"My secret? Duck fat," Kurt answered. Carson smiled and then let Kurt's words sink in. Eeeew. So THAT was what was in all those lotions he used? Gross. "Heeeey guys," Kurt said as they passed by Artie and Tina. "Just holding hands with Brittany!"

Carson rolled his eyes. _Oh, Kurt, honey._ He spotted Rachel angrily slamming books into her locker just then and couldn't resist a quick "Heeeey, Trollberry, how's the laryngitis treating you? Still can't sing, huh? What a shame, what a shame. I look forward to seeing you sulk more in glee club tomorrow!" He chuckled as Rachel gave him a death glare.

"Seriously, they feel like a baby," said Brittany, still entranced with Kurt's hand. "Now I know what it's like to date a baby!"

_Oh my GOD, _thought Carson. _This whole thing is just…I mean, come on, Kurt. How is she even in high school? How did she get even the minimal grades required to get this far? I just don't GET IT._

"Hey Kurt! Carson!" a familiar voice called from behind the three of them.

"Dad! Hey," said Kurt as he and Carson turned around to see their father walking down the hallway toward them. Carson had a bad feeling that he wasn't there to see them.

"Finn caught a foul ball on the ninth, so that means free hoagies at Lenny's Hoagies and then half-price at the motocross tonight, so I promised him I'd take him," said Burt, nodding a hello in Brittany's direction as he finished talking.

_I knew it. Kurt,_ thought Carson. He wasn't even looking at Kurt's face and he knew what it must look like. Like complete devastation.

"Can you excuse us for a minute, boo?" Kurt asked Brittany.

"What?"

"Just go away," he said, his clear exasperation with her starting to show at last. Brittany walked away and Kurt turned back to Burt as Carson stayed behind him. "Did you ever think that might be something I wanted to do with you?" he asked him in a shaky voice.

"Look, Kurt, Finn needs a buddy right now, ok? At the game he got to talk about his dad and his mom thinks it's a really good thing for him. Look, I promise you we will hang out as much as you want, ok? Just not tonight." He patted Kurt on the arm and waved at Carson before turning and heading back the way he came. Carson stepped up beside his twin and put one hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Kurt was shaking.

"Kurt?" he said hesitantly.

"I have to go," Kurt said, clearly struggling not to cry right there in the middle of the school hallway. "I…I think I'm gonna go practice in the auditorium. Gonna change my stupid clothes and go practice," he mumbled, more to himself than to Carson. He turned around and hurried in the direction of the auditorium as Carson watched him go, frowning.

_God, Dad, why do you keep showing up at SCHOOL to take Finn to things? Don't you realize how that makes Kurt feel? _

Before he could change his mind, he headed in the direction his dad had gone, hoping to catch up with him before he and Finn left. It was time they had a serious discussion. If he wouldn't listen to Kurt, maybe he would listen to Carson.

"Dad!" he shouted, spotting him about to go into the front office. "Dad, can we talk?"

"Don't really have the time right now, kid, I've gotta sign Finn out and-"

"Can you MAKE the time? Please? It's important," Carson insisted.

Burt gave him a long look and nodded. "Fine. Ok."

"Great," said Carson, leading them out the front doors and over into a corner near a tree where they could talk in private. "Dad, you're kind of killing Kurt."

Burt frowned. "What?"

"With all this Finn stuff," Carson explained. "You're always doing fun stuff with Finn and showing up at school to pick him up, and it's really hurting Kurt's feelings."

"Well, I know he's a little upset that we don't do as much stuff together right now, but I've explained to him that Finn needs a-"

"No, Dad,_ really._ It's really hurting him," interrupted Carson, crossing his arms across his chest. "You just don't see how much because he doesn't let you see him cry. Or tries not to. But I see. I'm the only one who ever really sees. It's hurting him badly. He thinks the reason you prefer spending time with Finn is because Finn isn't gay."

"Now that's not true!" Burt said. "You know that."

"Regardless, that's what he thinks," said Carson.

Burt frowned, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at Carson carefully. "Really?"

_"Yes,_" said Carson. "Why do you think he's been lowering his voice and pretending to date an idiot and dressing like…well…like you? He wants your attention, and he isn't getting it because you've been spending so much time with Finn. I don't think this is what he had in mind when he set you and Carole up."

"I didn't realize he felt _that_ strongly about it," Burt mused.

"Well, he does. And I think today was the final straw. He's on his way to the auditorium right now to practice god only knows what depressing showtune. That's how he relieves stress. He sings."

Burt was quiet for a minute, thinking. "Maybe I should go check up on him," he said at last.

"Yeah, I think that would be great," said Carson. "Tell Finn you can't hang out today. Please. Kurt needs you right now."

Burt nodded. "Yeah….yeah, I think you're right, kid. I'll talk to Finn." He started back inside the building and then turned around. "Hey, Carson, you don't think I ignore YOU too much, do you?"

"No, Dad, I think we're good," Carson said with a smile.

Burt nodded. "Cause you'd tell me, right?"

"_Yes_, Dad."

"Ok."

* * *

"It was you who sent Dad to the auditorium today, wasn't it?" asked Kurt that night as he settled into bed beside Carson. "He didn't say it, but it was you."

Carson nodded and closed his laptop, setting it on the nightstand. "Guilty. I just couldn't stand seeing you so depressed anymore."

"I wasn't depressed," protested Kurt.

"Yes, you were. And you're my Kurtsie. When you're sad, I'm sad."

Kurt smiled and threw his arms around Carson's neck, hugging him tight. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Any time," Carson answered, patting him gently on the back. "Any time."

* * *

The day Carson had been dreading finally arrived several weeks later when Burt asked the twins to please meet him in the living room, as he had something very important to discuss with them. Carson had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he and Kurt took seats beside one another on the living room sofa. He strongly suspected this had something to do with the Hudsons. And he was absolutely right.

"Boys, as you know, Carole and I have been seeing each other for a few months now," Burt began, looking back and forth between the twins, "and we've decided that we'd like to go ahead and start living together. Which means that they'll be moving in here with us."

Kurt clasped his hands together and squealed. "Oh, Dad, this is great! I'm so happy for you! Oh, I can't _wait_ to actually start redecorating the bedroom. I mean, Finn will probably have zero opinions on what he'd like, since he's such a _boy_, but it won't hurt to ask him."

"Daaaaaaaad, do they _have_ to move in?" Carson whined. "I'm not ready! I thought it would be a lot longer before you actually did this! I don't _wanna_ live with Finn!"

Burt sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I know, Carson, but I'm afraid you're just going to have to deal with it. Finn is _not_ that bad. I'm sure you can find a way to get along with him."

"But…he has to share our bedroom!" Carson said. "I don't WANT him in there!" His father had no idea HOW badly Carson didn't want Finn in there. Lately he had been waking up with Kurt-inspired erections more often than ever before thanks to the fucking Cheerios uniform. It was getting to be quite a problem, although, true to his silent promise to Kurt, he had somehow managed to not think about him while he took care of matters. He wasn't sure how long he could keep that up, since it was becoming more and more difficult to not think about Kurt. But the point was, if Finn was sleeping in the same room, it would be risky to sneak off into the bathroom at night without him noticing. Not to mention that he just plain didn't like the idea of Kurt and Finn being around each other in various states of undress.

Despite Carson's vehement objections to the situation, their father did not budge on his decision. Which was how he found himself standing, arms crossed, between Kurt and their dad in the twins' bedroom on the night before Finn and his mom were supposed to move in. They were waiting for Carole to lead Finn down the stairs. Apparently, Finn had yet to be told about this new development in their parents' relationship, and was going to be surprised with the news when he arrived. Carson couldn't wait to see his dismayed reaction. It would be the one bright spot in what was sure to be a sucktastic evening.

He wasn't disappointed. Finn took the news about as well as Carson had. Carson almost felt sorry for him until he remembered that he was going to have to share Kurt's attention with him all day, every day from now on. Then he went right back to being sorry for himself.

"The twins don't have their own beds?" Carole had asked in surprise as she looked around the room. It was the first time she had seen it. Carson looked up sharply. Oh, hell no. If she thought she was going to join their family and make him and Kurt sleep in separate beds….

Thankfully, Burt smiled and shook his head.

"Nah….when they were little the only way we could get them to sleep was to put them in the same bed together, and then as they got older it saved room to just have the one bed. Now they've been sleeping together for long it would be hard on them to make them sleep separately."

"Oh," Carole had said slowly. "Well, what about college? That will be quite an adjustment for you boys if you've never even slept alone."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Carson said quickly, eager for the conversation to be over. She was just going to have to get over it. There was no way he was being kept away from Kurt. No fucking way. Thankfully, Carole dropped the subject and left the room to find Finn, who had left to go sulk alone somewhere. Kurt stared happily down at the money Burt had just given him to redecorate the bedroom with.

"Now that I have a solid budget, I'm sure I can make this room somewhat to Finn's tastes," he said.

"It's still my room, too," Carson mumbled.

"Oh, hush, Carsey," Kurt admonished him. "Learn to compromise, will you? I promise, it won't kill you."

Finn's first night in the room was exhausting. All three boys had helped move all of Finn's crap into the room. Carson would have been more than happy to just let Finn move all his shit by himself, but he had grudgingly decided to help when Kurt started helping Finn move his dresser down the stairs.

"No, Kurt, let me do it," he had said, gently pushing Kurt aside and taking his place. The last thing he needed to top off his shitty new life was a heavy dresser falling on Kurt and killing him. The room was slightly more cluttered once all of Finn's stuff was moved in, but there was still plenty of room to move around. So, there was that.

"There, it doesn't look so bad right now, does it?" asked Kurt, sitting down on his and Carson's bed and surveying their new surroundings. "It's not decorated yet, of course, but it's not bad."

"It'll do," Carson grumbled. "I still don't know why we couldn't just stick Finn in the storage room upstairs."

"Shh, Carson," Kurt hissed, gazing in the direction of the bathroom, where Finn was showering. "He'll hear you."

"No, he won't, and even if he did, I don't give a shit," Carson said. "My life is now officially over now that I have to share a room with him."

"You are such a drama queen. Can you at least try to make the best of this?" asked Kurt. "Or at least not be so openly hostile to Finn? For me?" He gave Carson the pout, and Carson flopped down on the bed beside him and sighed.

"Fine. I promise to not make it so very obvious how much I hate Finn. Happy?"

"I will be as soon as I've gotten this room redecorated," answered Kurt, patting Carson on the arm. "I wish Finn would give me at least some idea of what he'd like."

"Decorate it however you want. I doubt he cares," said Carson, resting his head in Kurt's lap. "Mmmm..you smell nice. What is it today? Raspberry?"

"Melon," replied Kurt.

"I knew that."

Finn emerged from the bathroom just then (fully dressed, Carson noticed, _thank God_) and Kurt gently pushed Carson off his lap so that he could go take his turn in the shower. "Be good, both of you," he warned playfully as he collected a towel and disappeared into the bathroom.

Carson sighed and grabbed his laptop, opening a new Word document so that he could jot down notes for the next week's edition of _The Muckraker_. He looked up after several minutes to find Finn staring at him.

"Can I help you?" he asked irritably.

"Oh…sorry, dude. I was just wondering…" Finn trailed off.

Carson sighed. "Wondering what?"

"How come you and Kurt share a bed?" Finn asked, sounding confused.

"God, Finn, don't you know anything?" Carson said, not wanting to go into reasons with him right now. "All twins share beds. It's customary."

"Oh," said Finn. "Cool. Didn't know that."

"Yeah, well now you do." _Fuck, he's such an idiot._ That was almost too easy.

There was silence for several more minutes, and then Finn spoke up again.

"…Dude?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?" said Finn. Carson sighed and shut his laptop.

"_What_?"

"Why do you always act like you hate everyone?"

"That's not an act, Finn. I DO hate everyone. Almost everyone."

"You treat Kurt pretty well," said Finn.

"Kurt's different," Carson said sharply. "He's my twin and he's the only person in this fucking town who doesn't set my teeth on edge."

Kurt emerged from the bathroom just then, and _holy hell _he was shirtless. Carson was at least grateful to see that he had put pajama bottoms on in the bathroom, but still. He wasn't too thrilled about anyone else enjoying that view.

"You look cold, Kurt," he said pointedly. "You should probably put a shirt on. Like, as soon as possible."

"I was just getting to that, Carson," Kurt replied through his teeth. He rooted through the closet and quickly threw a T-shirt on. "Happy?"

"Very," Carson replied.

"Let's just all go to bed," said Kurt, climbing in beside Carson. "Tomorrow's the first day of Gaga week and I'm gonna have to be up super early to put on my costume." Oh, yes, that Lady Gaga costume for glee club. Carson had almost forgotten. He had seen Kurt in it already and Kurt had looked hot as hell in it, especially with those heels he had made to go with it. Carson, of course, had absolutely refused to wear a costume. What was Mr. Schue going to do? Kick him out of the club?

He must have been more tired than he realized, because the next thing he knew he was being awoken by the sound of Finn screaming in terror.

_What the fuck? _he thought sleepily, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. He quickly realized the cause of the screaming and scrambled out of bed. Kurt had been sleepwalking again. At the moment, he was standing right next to Finn's bed with his head cocked to the side. Finn must have had quite the shock when he woke up.

"Shut the fuck up!" Carson hissed at Finn. "You'll wake him up and give him a fucking heart attack!"

"Him? What about me? I woke up and he was just standing there like some weirdo," Finn hissed back. "I didn't know he sleepwalks."

"Well, now you do. And this is another reason why we share the same bed. He can be dangerous when he sleepwalks, and I have to be there to get him back to bed," Carson whispered, an evil idea taking shape in his mind.

"D-dangerous?" asked Finn.

"Oh yeah," Carson whispered excitedly. "You never know where he'll end up. Once, he had a dream that he was the monkey from The Lion King and I found him upstairs holding a teddy bear out of the window like it was Simba. And that teddy bear could easily have been a person. Kurt is pretty strong in his sleep, you know."

"So what…what happens if he dreams that he's a serial killer or something?" Finn asked nervously.

"I have no idea," said Carson. "I guess you just hope I wake up in time to go find him. Pleasant dreams!" He gently grabbed Kurt's shoulders and steered him back toward the bed, smiling to himself. Finn wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night now.

* * *

Carson trudged into the house, utterly exhausted, and tossed his bag onto the couch. School had been long and sucky, and he'd had to stay a few hours extra after school in order to see that the Muckraker was set to print the next day. He hadn't even had Kurt (or his sexy Gaga outfit) to hang out with during the day because Kurt had skipped school in order to finish redecorating their bedroom.

"It really needs to get done today," he had said eagerly that morning as they sat eating breakfast. "I want to surprise Finn with it. And besides, it will be nice to have one day where I'm not harassed by Karofsky and his cronies."

"Wait, what?" Carson had asked sharply. "That asshole on the football team has been harassing you? What's he done? I'll kick his ass."

"No, Carson. It's nothing, really. Just don't worry about it," Kurt insisted. "I'll be fine, he's just an idiot. I can handle it."

"If I catch him talking to you again, I will poison his lunch," said Carson. "Do you want me to stay home and help you? I'm not much of a decorator, but I can try."

"Oh, no no no," Kurt had said. "You just go to school. No offense, but you'll be way more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to this stuff."

"That hurts, Kurt."

"The truth does, honey. Now go to school."

Now that his long day was over, he was so ready to just chill out for a while. He wondered if Kurt had finished the room yet.

"Hi, Dad," he said to Burt, who was sitting at the kitchen table paying bills. "You're home early."

"Hey, kid. Short day at the shop. How was your day?"

"Fine. Busy. How's Kurt doing with the room?"

"No idea. He wouldn't let me down to see it yet. Must be finished, though. He took Finn down there just now. I'm sure it looks like something out of a magazine. You know your brother."

Carson smiled. He certainly did. He grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and headed downstairs, eager to see what Kurt had spent the day doing to their room. He wasn't sure what he was expecting as he descended the stairs, but it certainly wasn't Kurt and Finn yelling at each other, which was what he was greeted with. He froze halfway down the stairs and listened to the heated conversation happening below.

"It's just a room, Finn! We can redecorate it if you want to!" Kurt was yelling. What?_What the fuck is wrong with Finn? I mean, I can't see the whole room from here, but it looks pretty damn good to me._

"Ok. Good," he heard Finn reply. "Then the first thing that needs to go is that faggy lamp!"

What.

WHAT.

WHAT?

What the fuck had Finn just said? Surely Carson had misheard.

"And then we need to get rid of this fa-"

Carson descended the rest of the stairs in a split second. It took even less time than that for him to bound over to where Finn stood and connect his fist with his face with as much strength as he had in him. He punched him so hard it actually hurt his knuckles. Finn stopped yelling and stumbled back, holding one hand over the right side of his face where Carson had clocked him. Kurt screamed. Another set of footsteps descended the stairs.

"What is going ON down here?" Burt demanded, looking from Finn to Carson as he pieced together what had happened. "What did you just call him?" he snapped at Finn, completely ignoring the fact that Finn was nursing an injured face. Carson walked over to a shaking, crying Kurt and put his arm around him protectively.

"No, I didn't call him anything, I was just talking about the blanket…" Finn stammered.

"No, you used that word and you're talking about him," Burt said, walking closer to Finn.

"Relax, Dad. I didn't take it that way," Kurt protested as Carson glared daggers at Finn.

"That's because you're sixteen and you still assume the best in people," Burt answered Kurt, never taking his eyes off Finn. "You live a few years, you start seeing the hate in people's hearts. Even the best people. You use the N word?" he asked Finn.

"Of course not," said Finn quietly, wincing at the pain in his face.

"Yeah? How about "retard?" That nice girl on the Cheerios with Kurt…you call her a retard?"

"Becky? No. She's my friend. She's got Down Syndrome. I'd never call her that. That's cruel," said Finn weakly.

"But you think it's ok to come into my house and say faggy?" Burt asked. Carson looked at Kurt, who looked absolutely miserable. He wished he could just kill Finn right then and there for causing his twin to look like that.

"That's not what I-"

"I KNOW WHAT YOU MEANT!" Burt bellowed, to Carson's surprise. It was rare for their father to raise his voice. "You think I didn't use that word when I was your age? Some kid gets clocked in practice, we'd tell him to stop being such a fag, shake it off. We meant it exactly the way you meant it. That being gay is wrong, or some kind of punishable offense. I really thought you were different, Finn. I thought that being in glee club, and being raised by your mom, that you were some new generation of dude who saw things differently. Who just kind of came into the world knowing what it's taken me years of struggling to figure out. I guess I was wrong."

Kurt shook even more in Carson's arms. Carson held him a little tighter, looking down at his feet.

"I'm sorry, Finn, but you can't stay here," said Burt. Carson looked back up in shock. Whoa. _Dad's not fucking around._

"Dad…" Kurt started to protest.

"I love your mom," Burt continued, "and maybe this is gonna cost me her, but my family comes first. I can't have that kind of poison around. This is our home, Kurt," he said, turning back to look at Kurt and Carson. "He's my son," he said, turning back to Finn. "Out in the world, you do what you want. Not under my roof."

The discussion over, Finn hurried back up the stairs, still clutching his swelling face. Burt looked at the twins for a minute, taking in the way Kurt was practically falling apart in Carson's arms.

"Carson, I understand why you did what you did, but you shouldn't have," Burt said quietly. "We'll discuss that later. Kurt, the place looks GREAT." He gave Kurt a pat on the shoulder before heading upstairs after Finn.

As soon as the basement door shut, Kurt seemed to let go of any shred of strength he had been holding on to this whole time and started sobbing against Carson's shoulder.

"I know," Carson said soothingly. "Let it out, Kurtsie. Let it all out. I'm here. It's ok." He sat down on the small couch Kurt had added to the room, pulling Kurt down with him and wrapping both arms around him. Kurt sagged against him and cried for what seemed like hours, making Carson hate Finn's guts even more with every passing minute. He wished he'd had time to do more than just punch him in his stupid face. He wished he'd been able to kick him in the balls, too, among other various torture methods.

Gradually, Kurt's sobs tapered off into gasps and sniffles as he started to calm down. Carson brought his hand to Kurt's face and gently wiped some of the tears away with his thumb.

"Feeling better now?" he asked gently. Kurt sniffed and nodded. Carson looked around the room, really taking in for the first time all the work Kurt had put into it. He didn't know what the fuck Finn's problem was. The room looked awesome.

"You know," he said, "I think I like the way the room looks now better than the way it looked before. You did a really good job with it. I kind of feel like I'm in a royal bedroom or something. Anyone who doesn't like it is just an asshole."

Kurt gave him a watery smile. "Really?"

"Definitely," said Carson. "Can we keep it like this?"

Kurt laughed and swiped at his eyes with his hand. "Yeah. Yeah, ok. Let's keep it."

"Good," Carson said, stroking his fingers through Kurt's hair as Kurt rested his head back against Carson's chest. "Now we officially have the nicest bedroom in town." He kissed the top of Kurt's head and noticed that his eyes had closed and, if the way his weight against Carson had suddenly sagged further was any indication, he was on his way to falling asleep.

"Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"Just wanted to let you know I love you."

"I know. 'Love you too."


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: An update in less than a week! Whaaaaat? Thank you for all the lovely reviews! We literally squeal with joy whenever we get a new one, and they are very much appreciated and treasured. So come on, let's read some Kurson.**

Finn pretty much avoided Carson after the incident in the basement, which was lucky for him, because Carson was dying for an opportunity to punch the other side of his face. The swollen, black and blue eye he was currently sporting could use a matching one on the other side, in Carson's opinion.

"Damn, Hudson, what the hell happened to your eye?" Santana Lopez had asked him at the next glee club meeting. "Do you owe money to the mafia or something? Jesus."

"Yes, Finn, what _did_ happen to your eye? It looks really bad," Carson had said innocently from his seat next to Kurt, his eyes fixed down at his phone screen. "It must be so very, very painful. I'm sure you've learned to never again do whatever it was you did that may have caused such a painful affliction." Kurt had shot him an "_Oh god Carson, please don't start on this right now" _look, and Finn had looked extremely uncomfortable as he gazed down at his shoes.

"Got hit with a ball yesterday," he had mumbled in response to Santana, refusing to look at Carson. Good. Carson didn't want him to feel like he had the right to even look at either him or Kurt right now. Kurt may have forgiven him, because he was Kurt and he was unfailingly sweet and always forgave and forgot way too easily for his own good, but if there was one thing Carson was awesome at, it was holding a grudge. Which he fully intended to do for as long as possible. Nobody fucked with his brother and got away with it. Nobody. Finn had officially earned a permanent spot at the top of Carson's shit list.

At least he wasn't living with them anymore, so there was that. Not right now, anyway. He and his mom had gone back to their own house for a while, which everyone involved had decided would be for the best. Carson hoped it stayed that way. Preferably forever. Or at least until he and Kurt had graduated.

Another plus, the best one, in Carson's opinion, was that Kurt seemed to have finally gotten over his infatuation with Finn. He no longer made heart eyes at him in the choir room or went out of his way to get close to him, and Carson could not have been more grateful that Kurt had finally seen the light. He wished it hadn't taken being verbally attacked to make Kurt realize that Finn sucked, but still. At least something good had come from this whole debacle.

So, the club pressed on with preparations for regionals, which was going about as well as their preparations for sectionals had. Which was to say, Mr. Schue was continuing to give them bullshit assignments every week instead of actually helping prepare them for the upcoming competition. Carson officially gave up trying to point out how stupid this was, or that they were going to lose regionals if they didn't start actually rehearsing something soon. Nobody seemed to listen to him, and he was just wasting his breath. Seriously, "funk week?" What the fuck was that shit? The only good thing to happen that week was that Kurt had worn extremely tight red pants for their funk number, and to say that they showed off all his assets in the most wonderful of ways would have been an understatement. Not that Carson was looking or anything (ok, he totally was).

Well…that and the fact that that Rachel Berry got eggs thrown at her in the school parking lot by her ex-boyfriend, Jesse, and his friends from Vocal Adrenaline, which he had rejoined after leaving McKinley. Carson wasn't sure of the whole story there…something to do with Rachel's biological mother or whatever…but he didn't really care. He only wished he had been there to see her get covered in shattered eggs, because that shit would have been _epic_.

"And now I just keep having nightmares of all the mothers of the little baby chicks coming after me for revenge," she had whined in glee club the day after it happened.

"I would pay money to see that, actually," Carson said. "I'm not even kidding."

"Ugh, this is bull!" Puck exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists. "Finn, Mike, Matt…come with me," he ordered, getting up from his seat as the rest of the glee boys followed him.

"Right on. It's time for less talking and more punching," Finn said. _Interesting choice of words, Finn, considering what I did to your face_, thought Carson. He noticed Kurt getting up from his seat to join the rest of the boys, pushing Artie's wheelchair along with him.

_Kurt, what the hell? Why do you even care about this? You HATE Rachel. How many times would we have thrown eggs at her ourselves if we had them at our disposal?_ Then again, he thought, that just went to show what a good person Kurt was if he was willing to help stand up for someone he didn't even like. Carson wished he could be more like Kurt.

But he wasn't, and he didn't care about Rachel, so he stayed put.

"Hey, what's going on?" asked Mr. Schue as he entered the choir room.

"We're on our way to go all _Braveheart_ on Vocal Adrenaline!" said Finn angrily. Carson rolled his eyes. _Oh, please, Finn. You're twice my size and I punched you so hard I'm pretty sure your descendants will be feeling that pain. And I'm pretty sure that Jesse guy is tougher than he looks._

"Guys, violence is never the answer!" Mr. Schue protested.

"It is when the question is what's the best way to mess up that Jesse kid's face," retorted Puck. _Oh my God, who the hell CARES? It was just eggs. They didn't throw shit at her. Fuck._

"Mr. Schue, Rachel is one of us. We're the only ones who get to humiliate her," Kurt said in a determined tone. _Oh, Kurtsie. That's kind of sweet. Sickening and odd, considering you're talking about Rachel, but sweet. _

"Soooo, am I the only person here who kind of wants to give Jesse a high five and then buy him a drink?" asked Carson. Everybody glared at him and ignored him, except for Santana, who raised her hand halfway in the air.

"Actually, no. I kind of want to throw him a parade," she said.

Mr. Schue yelled at everyone to sit down, and Carson was amused to see that Kurt was the first person scrambling back to his seat, practically tripping over himself to get there.

"You were gonna defend Trollberry's honor, hmm?" he whispered teasingly in Kurt's ear.

"Shut up," Kurt whispered back. "It was the gentlemanly thing to do, and I would have looked like a jerk if I hadn't joined them. I'm not you, you know. I care what people think."

"That's your problem in a nutshell," Carson said, squeezing his hand lovingly.

* * *

The week of regionals arrived, and Carson wished he could say he was surprised that the club still hadn't picked a setlist, but he wasn't, because it was clear by now that Will Schuester was the worst glee club director ever. He didn't know why everyone was always getting so pissy whenever Coach Sylvester pointed this out. She was right.

They ended up performing a medley of Journey songs that they had literally only had about twenty-four hours to rehearse. And then everyone wondered why they came in third place.

"Gee, do you think it could possibly be because we spent week after week doing worthless assignments where we were all supposed to learn lessons about finding ourselves or whatever, instead of picking a setlist early on and rehearsing it relentlessly until it was perfect?" Carson had asked sarcastically back in the green room. "Because that's what the other teams did. Fuck, you guys are hopeless if you can't comprehend that."

"Those assignments weren't worthless, Carson," Rachel protested. "They helped us."

"Really? Tell me, does anyone in this room feel like Madonna Week was in any way helpful to them or their performance when they were out on that stage today?" Carson asked. "What about Hello Week? Or Bad Reputation Week? Hmm? Did any of you stop after your performance and think "Wow, I sure am glad that Mr. Schuester made us sing "Ice Ice Baby" in glee club last month, because I really feel prepared for this competition now?" Somehow I doubt it. We're never going to win another competition if we continue to put such minimal thought into the planning of our numbers, while the other teams are rehearsing the same number for months on end. Not that I really care, but shit! Use your heads, people!" he finished, his chest heaving from his longwinded speech.

As was so often the case, nobody even acknowledged that he had spoken except for Kurt, who gave him a tight smile. Carson knew that Kurt was probably the most disappointed out of any of them that they hadn't even placed. Carson rubbed at his eyes and glanced at his watch. It had been a long day. Quinn's water had broken right after their performance was over, and the entire club except for Rachel had accompanied her to the hospital, where they had sat in the maternity ward waiting room for the entire duration of her labor.

"Why do we _all_ have to be here?" Carson had complained to Kurt, who had found a months-old copy of Vogue among the tattered magazines and was flipping through it leisurely. "I don't even like Quinn, and I couldn't care less about her being in labor."

"You're here because it was either come with us or stay at the theater with Rachel," said Kurt calmly, turning a page of his magazine. "And to drastically paraphrase your response, you said that you would rather pleasure yourself repeatedly with a cheese grater than be stuck in the same building as Rachel with no means of escape."

"I did. I did say that," Carson mumbled, nodding. "And you know what? I still stand by those words a thousand percent."

He and Kurt had eventually taken a little walk to go stare at the babies through the nursery window. Carson wasn't much of a baby person, but he thought it was just adorable the way Kurt smiled and waved at them through the glass.

"Aaaaw, Carsey, look at that one!" Kurt exclaimed, pointing at one of the babies on the other side. "Isn't he cute?"

"You're cute," Carson said to him, throwing one arm around his shoulder. "And I can't tell which baby you're pointing at. They all look the same to me. Like bald, loud little aliens."

"You're terrible," said Kurt playfully. "This is the happiest ward in the hospital, you know."

"Really? Because I hear unearthly screaming coming from every room we pass by on this floor. It sounds like people are being murdered," replied Carson. "I think I even heard glass breaking behind a few doors, and I strongly suspect that more than one guy is getting his balls kicked right now."

Kurt slapped him teasingly on the chest. "You know what I mean. This is the only ward in the entire building where life is beginning instead of ending. It's not like…well…you know. It's not like where Mom always was."

Carson's arm around him grew instinctively tighter as he held him close. "You know what? You're absolutely right," he said as Kurt's head rested on his shoulder. "Leave it to you to find the positive side of everything."

"I have to. You're always finding the negative side of everything. I have to balance you out," said Kurt.

"One of the many things I love about you," replied Carson, giving him a squeeze. "Come on, let's get back to the waiting room. It's been like fifteen minutes since I've made a sarcastic comment to Finn, and I'm starting to get stomach pains. I have to let my bitchiness out, or it will poison me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You are such a weirdo. But you're my weirdo."

* * *

Summer vacation came at long last, and Kurt's feelings were mixed. On one hand, he was grateful to have three months ahead of him in which he wouldn't have to worry about being shoved hard against lockers every day by Dave Karofsky (something which was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence, and which Kurt hoped Carson never found out about, because the last thing he wanted was Carson getting hurt trying to defend him against the larger boy). On the other hand, summertime meant that he had nothing to distract him from his ever-intensifying feelings for his twin.

And they really were becoming quite intense. Something had broken in Kurt the day that Carson had charged down into the basement and punched Finn for what he said about the bedroom. In that moment, like he had done hundreds of times before without fail, Carson had perfectly demonstrated how much he cared for Kurt and that Kurt came first for him, always, no matter the consequences. Kurt had always known this, of course, but he felt like he was really grasping it for the first time that day.

Whether he meant to or not, he had stopped trying so hard to suppress how he felt about Carson. He knew it was wrong, not to mention deplorable and disgusting and a host of other unpleasant adjectives, but he was pretty powerless to stop himself from feeling…whatever this was that he was feeling. Kurt still wasn't entirely sure. Calling it love felt wrong. Of course he loved Carson, he was his twin. He loved him more than anything, but surely he didn't love him like _that_, did he? If it wasn't love, then what was it? Infatuation? Attraction? Kurt had no idea, but he didn't like the implications of any of those options. It confused and frustrated him so much that sometimes he just wanted to curl into a ball by himself and cry from how overwhelming it was. He knew one thing for sure, though. He knew that he could _never_ allow Carson to know about this. The poor guy would be so creeped out and it would just kill Kurt inside to know that he had made his twin feel that way about him. Things between them would never be the same again, and that just wouldn't do. Kurt didn't know how he would be able to even live if that happened. No, he would just have to try his best to suppress his feelings like he had been doing before. If he did it well enough, maybe they would go away. He hoped.

It certainly wasn't helping that it was now June, and the weather had taken a decided turn for the blazing hot, which meant that the twins' bedroom was almost a furnace at night, even if they opened every window and ran a fan. As a result, both of them went to bed in nothing but their pajama pants more often than not, and sometimes even less than that. Some nights it was strictly boxers. And Kurt was having an extremely difficult time with this, because it meant that he was faced with Carson's practically naked, usually sweaty body night after night. He couldn't help but look at it appreciatively, no matter how disgusted he was with himself for doing it. He prayed to a god he didn't even believe in that Carson wasn't noticing how Kurt was looking at him, because that would be the most embarrassing, awkward thing that could possibly ever happen. Kurt would seriously rather die.

"You ok?" Carson asked him one night as they prepared to go to bed. It was hot enough to be a boxers-only night, and there was already a shiny sheen of sweat covering his torso. Kurt could practically feel himself drooling as he tried not to stare too openly. "You look sick. Are you feeling alright?"

_Oh, Carson. If only you knew. You would look sick too if you were busy thinking about how good you look when your abs are all sweaty. I know you don't think you have great abs, but you do. You SO DO. Oh my god, Kurt, just STOP._

"I'm fine," he replied, averting his gaze and pretending to be very interested in the state of his fingernails. "I'm just tired, I guess."

"Are you sure?" Carson asked, climbing onto the bed beside him and bringing his hand up to Kurt's forehead. "You're not coming down with something, are you?"

"I'm fine, I promise," Kurt said with a smile. "You worry too much."

"I have to worry too much, because you don't worry about yourself enough," replied Carson, turning out the light and settling down on top of the sheets, wrapping his arm around Kurt and pressing their bodies together.

_Oh god_, thought Kurt, swallowing hard as a surge of heat flooded his body that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. He could feel Carson's bare chest against his back, and it felt so good. Kurt bit his lip to distract himself from just how good it felt. "I worry about myself plenty, Carson. Go to sleep," he said, hating himself for liking the way Carson's fingers stroked lazily at his arm.

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep for, but it must have been at least several hours before he slowly woke up, his eyes blinking as they adjusted to the darkness of the room. He glanced over to the digital clock by his bed, which read 12:30a.m. Carson's deep breathing behind him let him know that his twin was still fast asleep, one arm still clutched tightly around Kurt while one leg was slung haphazardly over Kurt's leg, and…._oh dear god._

Kurt was suddenly wide awake and could feel something poking into the back of his thigh where Carson's leg had overlapped his own. And whatever it was, it was hard, hot, and throbbing. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was Carson's dick. Carson's _hard_ dick. Which was currently only a thin layer of fabric away from touching Kurt's bare skin.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god_, Kurt panicked as he felt movement and started to realize that Carson must have been having a pretty exciting dream, since he was pretty much humping Kurt's leg in his sleep. Kurt fought the urge to be jealous over whoever Carson may have been dreaming about and started worrying about what the hell he was supposed to do now. _Oh god, what do I do? WHAT DO I DO? Should I wake him up? If I wake him up, he'll be so embarrassed. But he'll be even more embarrassed if he comes, and….oh god, I just thought about him coming and it was so hot, oh my….STOP IT, KURT. Just stop! You should definitely not be enjoying this, you sick pervert. _He found it a little odd that he was even feeling like this at all, much less with his own brother, considering that he was a hopeless romantic and was pretty squeamish about sex and sex-related things in general most of the time. He hadn't even known until recently that he was even capable of feeling things like this.

_Maybe I should just…just let him finish and then…_

Carson let out an absolutely sinful sounding moan just then that went straight to Kurt's dick, and to Kurt's horror he felt himself getting hard as Carson thrust lazily against his leg. He pressed his fist up against his mouth to keep himself from gasping out loud, or worse, moaning. He definitely did NOT want Carson to wake up now. It would be super embarrassing for the both of them, not to mention that the feeling of Carson hard against him was the sexiest thing he had ever experienced in his entire life and he wasn't sure he ever wanted it to stop. But it also felt _so wrong_.

Kurt tried to ignore his own hard-on. He tried so hard to resist doing what he really wanted to do, but the small, breathy "Oh!" Carson let out finally broke his willpower. He snaked his hand down inside his boxers, where he was so hard by now that it was almost painful, and started slowly stroking himself, using the pre-come that had already started collecting at his tip as lubricant. He bit his lip and suppressed the urge to moan as he felt Carson's lazy thrusts get just a little bit faster, and then he felt Carson's erection twitch and a warm rush of heat against his thigh as Carson came with a gasp. That, apparently, was all it took for Kurt, and he bit his lip hard enough to taste blood as he reached his own release, spilling over his hand and gasping quietly.

He lay there for a minute, trying to catch his breath and wondering what the hell he should do about Carson, whose breathing was now deep and even as he slept on. Kurt reached over to his night table and grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box he kept there. He cleaned himself up as best he could and tossed the used tissues on the floor next to his side of the bed. He would worry about them in the morning.

_Ok, ok, what do I do about him?_ Kurt wondered. He carefully extracted himself from Carson and gently rolled him onto his back. He decided he should probably just let him sleep like that. That way, when Carson woke up he would only remember his dream and assume Kurt hadn't heard (or felt) any of it. _Oh god, please._

Kurt had a hard time falling back asleep. He felt so damn guilty for what he had just done, not to mention still jealous of whoever the hell it was that had starred in Carson's dream. They didn't deserve to be in his dreams.

* * *

In July, the boys took to spending a lot of time out in their backyard, since they had recently acquired a small above ground swimming pool, which saved them the trouble of having to travel to the community pool on hot days.

Well, to be more specific, Carson spent a lot of time using the pool, while Kurt spent a lot of time watching him while laid out on a lounge chair with a shirt, sunglasses, and a hat on. The summer sun always gave him freckles, and he hated them with a burning passion.

"Why?" Carson often asked him. "I think your freckles are adorable. Especially the ones you get on your face. Do you have any idea how cute they are?"

"They most certainly are NOT cute," was Kurt's standard response. "They make me look like a giant game of Connect The Dots."

So whenever he and Carson spent time outside, he made sure to always keep a bottle of sunscreen handy to reapply every hour, no exceptions, and he tried to keep his shirt on as often as possible. If the sun couldn't get to his skin, it couldn't give him those stupid freckles. Plus, sitting in his chair pretending to read Vogue was the perfect excuse to watch Carson swimming, which was a thing of beauty if Kurt had ever seen it. He knew he should feel guilty for admiring the muscles in Carson's arms as his twin swam, but he couldn't help it. He also couldn't help biting his lip and staring shamelessly at Carson's wet chest whenever he got out of the pool and wandered over to sit in the chair beside Kurt's. Thank god for the sunglasses. They saved Kurt from many an awkward situation.

"You should go in the pool with me," said Carson one day as he laid his towel out on a chair and sat down. "The water isn't going to bite, you know. If it did bite you, I'd kill it."

Kurt lowered his sunglasses with one hand and peered at Carson over the rim of them. "And expose my skin to the blazing sun so I can get a constellation of ugly freckles? Yeah, how about no?"

Carson rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, Kurtsie, your freckles are the most adorable things ever."

"No, they aren't."

"Yes, they are."

Kurt sighed and put his magazine down. He glanced over at the water, which was glistening under the hot sun. It _did_ look inviting.

"I need to reapply my sunscreen first," he said. "And it has to set for ten minutes before I can even _think_ about going in that water." He removed his shirt and reached for his sunscreen bottle, squirting a dollop onto his fingers and beginning to apply it to his chest and stomach. He noticed Carson staring at him and handed him the bottle.

"Well, don't just sit there staring," he said, ignoring the irony of what he was saying. "Why don't…um….can you do my back for me?" He swallowed hard and avoided Carson's eyes as he asked, not wanting him to see the blush he could feel spreading over his face. He wasn't even sure what had even possessed him to ask in the first place, except that he kind of really wanted Carson's hands on him right now, and _wow, Kurt, what? You are such a weird person. Stop it right now. _Carson was quiet for a second before taking the bottle from Kurt and nodding.

"Yeah…yeah, ok," he said, clearing his throat. "Here, let me just…." He got up from his own chair and moved over to Kurt's. Kurt scooted forward so that there was room for Carson to sit behind him. He could feel the blush spreading over his whole body as Carson squirted the lotion onto his hands and then gingerly touched the skin on Kurt's back, making him gasp a little at the contact. He was beginning to think that this probably wasn't his best idea ever, but then Carson's fingers started massaging circles into his back and _yep, ok, this was definitely a good idea. How is he so good with his fingers, I can't even…_

"You ok?" Carson asked quietly as Kurt shivered. His fingers were gliding gently over his back with just the right amount of pressure, and it felt really, _really_ good.

"Fine," Kurt breathed, nodding his head. "Keep going." Carson's slick hands continued roaming down his back until they were right above the waistband of Kurt's swimming trunks, and _oh my god, Kurt, now is NOT the time to get hard, oh please don't…_

He bit his lip to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape as Carson continued rubbing sunscreen there, and he could feel his traitorous dick beginning to stand at attention. _Shit, oh please, don't let him notice. PLEASE don't let him notice. Think about gross things. Really gross things, like..um..ok…Finn and Rachel making out….Coach Sylvester naked….washing your face with regular soap…._

Unfortunately, it was kind of difficult to ignore the wonderful feeling of Carson's hands all over him, and Little Kurt was clearly enjoying the attention, refusing to stop showing its excitement over the situation. Kurt hunched over slightly, hoping that Carson was too focused on what he was doing to notice Kurt's not-so-little problem. He seemed to touch Kurt for hours, his hands rubbing up and down on his skin firmly but gently, and Kurt wasn't sure what kind of magic he possessed in those fingers, but he wished this could go on forever. You know, if not for the unfortunate erection thing. That could go.

"I think…I think you're all set here," Carson said at last, dragging his fingers down Kurt's back one last time before capping the sunscreen bottle and handing it back to him.

_Thank god_, thought Kurt as he took it. Maybe now his stupid dick would calm the hell down and stop being such a jerk. "Thanks, Carsey."

"Any time," Carson said, the smile evident in his voice even though Kurt couldn't see his face.

"I…uh…I have to let it set for a few," Kurt said, wishing his damn erection would just go away already before Carson noticed. "Why don't you go in the pool and I'll join you in a few minutes?"

"Sure," agreed Carson. "And when you get in there, I am going to splash you _so hard_."

_Ugh, please don't put it that way, it's not helping_, Kurt thought as Carson slid off the chair and climbed back into the pool. Kurt grabbed his magazine and positioned it strategically over his crotch as he tried to avoid looking at Carson, because watching him all wet and moving around in the water wasn't going to make this problem go away any faster. To his relief, after several minutes of focusing on Vogue and not on his sexy twin (_oh god, why did he just think that_), his dick finally started to flag. He thought about Rachel trying on lingerie for good measure, and _yep, that did it. Thank you, flying spaghetti monster_.

He was definitely going to have to get a handle on this, or the rest of the summer with Carson was probably going to end up killing him.

* * *

In late August, they were invited to an end-of-summer barbecue at Mercedes' house, along with the rest of the members of the glee club. Carson didn't really want to go, but Kurt had known exactly how to convince him.

"Pleeease, Carsey?" he asked, putting on that sweet, wheedling voice he always used when he wanted something.

"Kurt, noooo. I have a few weeks yet before I have to deal with them again, why do you want to make me do it tonight?"

"Because I don't want to go by myself, and I want you to go with me," Kurt replied, rubbing small circles into Carson's arm with his finger. "Please?"

"Do I have to?"

Kurt had given him the pout then, along with the "neglected dog from the ASPCA commercial" eyes for good measure, so Carson had been pretty powerless to resist. Oh, well. He supposed he could always amuse himself by making fun of Rachel the whole time, especially if she went on one of her tirades about how eating hot dogs was murder and that the cows who died to make their burgers would haunt them in their dreams for the rest of their lives for the crime of feasting on their delicious cow meat.

Rachel actually didn't end up attending, so Carson was left with nothing to do but focus on how very bored he was. Seriously, he didn't even like being around these people during the school year. The last thing he felt like doing was hanging out with them during his summer vacation, especially since school was going to be starting up soon and he would have to deal with their bullshit on a daily basis once again during glee club meetings. He was in the middle of trying to figure out how much time he should let go by before he tried asking Kurt if they could leave, when his attention was suddenly diverted away by a very distracting image.

Kurt was straddling a fold-up plastic chair while talking animatedly with Mercedes, and the straddling would have been a distracting sight all on its own, but that wasn't what was grabbing Carson's attention. What he was really focused on was the popsicle in Kurt's hand, which he was bringing up to his mouth every so often and sucking on in a way that could only be described as filthy. Carson literally could not keep his eyes off of him. He had no idea what the fuck was going on around him anymore. All he knew was that Kurt had his lips wrapped around that fucking popsicle (the _cherry red_ popsicle, at that) and was sucking it in the most pornographic way that Carson had ever seen. It was fascinating. He would talk to Mercedes for a minute, and then he would bring the popsicle to his mouth and suck lightly on the tip, swirling his tongue around to catch any stray melted ice that dripped down. Occasionally, he would just stick his tongue out and lick the length of the damn thing.

In short, he was practically fellating a fucking popsicle in front of everybody. Thank god nobody else had seemed to notice. Most of the guys were caught up in a boring discussion about football, and the girls were talking about whatever the fuck it was that girls talked about. Clothes, maybe. Or makeup. Or the Jonas Brothers or some shit. Carson didn't know and he didn't care. He was entirely too focused on the vision in front of him.

_Oh my god, Kurt, why? Why do you do these things to me? I can't even…and he doesn't even know he's doing it. I can't decide if that's the best or the worst part about this. He's so innocent…he's my innocent little Kurtsie, but fuck, look at what he's doing with that mouth. God, I wish I was that popsicle. I'm not even fucking kidding. That thing has got to be the luckiest frozen slab of high fructose corn syrup on the entire planet right now._

Kurt made an absolutely obscene slurping noise just then as he sucked at the popsicle and caught some of the dripping juice off the sides. Carson almost moaned right out loud, but thankfully he managed to stop himself. Unfortunately, as had been happening more and more often this summer, his dick was deciding that it was liking what it saw.

_Oh my fuck, NO. NO, NO, FUCKING NO. NOT HERE, OF ALL PLACES. This is not the time or the place for this, dick. _

It was at that moment that Carson realized just how red and debauched the damn popsicle was making Kurt's lips, and he stiffened even more inside his jeans. _Fuuuuuuck. Kurt, you're killing me. I'm going to die. Probably of embarrassment if anyone notices my problem…_

He glanced away from Kurt and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hoping that his dick would go down without anyone being the wiser, especially not Kurt. He looked around to make sure nobody was looking and was met with Santana giving him a smirk from where she was sitting. _Fuuuuuuuck. Just kill me now._

"That's quite a tent you've got going on in those jeans, Hummel," she said casually. "What, do barbecues get you hot or something?"

_Oh, thank fuck, I don't think she noticed me looking at Kurt._

"Shut up, Santana."

She raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms. "You know, you're not exactly ugly. If you want a little help with that impressive boner, we could probably work something out."

He honestly didn't know what to say to that, so he just gave her his best icy bitch glare. Thankfully, this was at least proving to be enough of a distraction to kill his boner.

"No thanks, I'd rather die."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She turned back to her conversation with Brittany and Carson breathed a sigh of relief. Santana may have been a bitch, but at least she had inadvertently helped him out with his problem, although not in the way she had intended. Carson thought it would be best if he just didn't look over in Kurt's direction anymore. At least, not while he was still blowing that popsicle. He sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing his eyes in frustration.

_I have got to do something about this shit. It just keeps getting worse. He's my brother, I can't keep doing this. I just can't. Now I can't even watch him innocently eat a popsicle without making it dirty in my mind. How much longer do I have to deal with this before everything is normal again? Were things ever really normal to begin with?_


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before we begin the new chapter, I just want to say thank you as usual to everyone who is following this fic and leaving us so many positive reviews! No, seriously, every time a new review comes in, we're all like "Squeeeee" and then we're happy pandas. So, thank you!**

**A few notes, now, if we may, based on a few things we've received via our Tumblr and other sources. First of all, I know I've mentioned before that this fic isn't going to be very enjoyable for anyone who is a fan of Blaine, and that's still true, but we want to go ahead and say that the same applies to Rachel. Carson doesn't like either of them for obvious reasons, so keep in mind that when they're seen through his eyes they aren't going to be portrayed in a positive light.**

**Also, a few people have expressed concern that this fic is going to turn into either an endgame Klaine fic or a Kurt/Carson/Blaine fic, and we want to go ahead and assure you that this is NOT the case. So, fear not! *Insert smiley face here because FF won't let me make an actual one***

**Now that the serious business is out of the way, let me just take a moment to fangirl over the fact that Chris has admitted to reading fanfiction. And may possibly be reading this right now. HI, CHRIS! We love you! And we will make it our mission to think up more adjectives to describe your butt!**

**Ok, that's it. Let's read!**

Summer came to an end and a new school year at McKinley began. It was the basically the exact same bullshit as last year except for the date on the calendar, but Carson soothed himself with the comforting thought that he now only had two school years left to go before he could escape Lima and attend Northwestern University. And he _would_ be attending, make no mistake about that. He was working harder than ever at cultivating himself to be an attractive applicant when the time came. He was still the editor of the _Muckraker_ (which, by default, also made him a member of the student council). And, even though everyone in the writers' club who had helped him the previous year had graduated and he was almost the sole member of that particular club again (except for Jacob Ben Israel, who only attended meetings sporadically), he figured the effort should count for something. He also had glee club to add to his resume, so at least his hours spent dealing with Mr. Schuester's bullshit and Rachel's whining weren't going to end up being a complete waste.

That was pretty much the only reason, besides being close to Kurt, why Carson even put up with the glee club as much as he did. They started the year off in need of new members again, and Rachel had felt threatened by their only possible new recruit and sent the poor, unsuspecting girl to a crack house, telling her it was where the auditions were being held. The girl had ended up joining Vocal Adrenaline, and Carson had honestly felt like kicking Rachel in the face after that incident, especially since she had not been otherwise punished for it.

Kurt, bless him, had tried to take it upon himself to reinvigorate the club by starting a Facebook campaign to perform Britney Spears songs for the first pep assembly of the year, only to be shot down repeatedly by Mr. Schuester, who was insisting that they do that boring adult pop shit that he had been pushing down their throats since last year. Carson had never been prouder in his entire life than when Kurt had finally snapped and told Schuester to "Stop being so freaking uptight all the time." It was such bullshit that Kurt had been sent to the principal's office for that (when, as Carson pointed out angrily to Mr. Schue, certain _other_ members of the club were sending students into dangerous situations and escaping any punishment at all). They had ended up performing "Toxic" for the pep assembly, during which the entire student body collectively lost their shit over how allegedly sexy it was. Well….actually, part of the performance _did_ involve Kurt thrusting into a hat while wearing sinfully tight pants, so yeah, ok, that was probably legit.

Now they were back to the same old shit of constantly whining that they had to prepare for this year's sectionals, while simultaneously doing absolutely nothing that could be considered helpful in said preparation. Carson had pretty much given up pointing out that they were spending more time complaining and singing pointless songs than they were actually putting thought and effort into their competition numbers. He had taken to just saying nothing and observing, reminding himself that in two years he would never have to see these people ever again.

One morning in early October, Carson came into school early, as he often did, to put together all the articles that were scheduled to be printed in that week's_Muckraker_. As was also often the case, they were almost entirely written by him, except for an editorial by Jacob about Rachel Berry's brief foray into dressing like Britney Spears (which Carson had absolutely no intention of publishing, both because it was stupid and because Rachel dressed as a schoolgirl was a sight he sincerely hoped he would never be subjected to ever again for however long he might live). He had to hurry a bit because there was a glee club meeting before school that day. Apparently, there was little rhyme or reason anymore to when they met in the choir room. Sometimes it was after school as it always had been, but other times it was in the morning. Still other times it was right in the middle of the day. Keeping up with the schedule was exhausting.

He was just gathering up his bag to go meet Kurt at his locker so they could head to the choir room together when Kurt himself entered the journalism classroom, looking depressed.

"Hey," Carson said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and looking at his twin. "What's up with you? You look all sad and depressed, and seeing you sad and depressed makes ME sad and depressed."

"I'm fine," Kurt sighed. "I just had an argument with Dad this morning before I left. That's all."

"About what?" Carson asked curiously. It was extremely rare for Kurt and their father to fight. Kurt wasn't usually the kind of kid who got into much trouble.

"He got all mad at me because I told him I wouldn't be able to be at this week's Friday night dinner," Kurt said, leaning up against the wall. "Sing-Along _Sound of Music_ is that night, and I have to go. I _have_ to. It only comes once a year. I mean, you don't think I'm being terribly selfish to want to go, do you?"

Carson shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. It's not like that thing happens every day. It's once a year and you have every right to want to go."

"Thank you," said Kurt, breathing a sigh of relief. "Honestly, I know the dinners are important, but Sing-Along _Sound of Music_ is important to me, too. I think he just got extra defensive about it because Finn and Carole are supposed to come over that night, too."

Carson groaned. "All the more reason to skip it, as far as I'm concerned. Take me with you to the movie."

Kurt laughed. "I would, but you would be so out of your element there. All those people around us dressed in nun habits….you'd be clawing your way back out to the parking lot before "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" was even halfway finished."

"I'll deal," Carson protested. "Just _pleeeease_ let me come with you. I can't handle a dinner with Finn by myself."

"I think if both of us skipped out on the dinner, Dad would be kind of pissed," said Kurt.

Carson grumbled and sighed. "Ugh. Well, we'll see. Maybe Finn will be busy with something stupid and not be able to come."

Neither twin's mood was improved by glee club that morning. It had started with Finn getting up in front of the club and declaring, entirely out of the blue, his newfound love for Jesus Christ and suggesting that the glee club should spend a week singing songs about religion. Carson had rolled his eyes out of habit.

"Ok, first of all, that's just another waste of time," he said as patiently as he possibly could (which wasn't very). "I don't think I need to remind anyone in this room that sectionals are coming up and you haven't even started discussing a setlist. Not sure why I care, but whatever. And secondly, Finn, if you want to sing about Jesus, then you go right ahead, but I don't see why the entire club should have to."

"Yeah," added Kurt. "Sorry, but if I wanted to sing about Jesus, I'd go to church. And the reason I don't go to church is because most churches don't think very much of gay people. Or women. Or science."

"I agree with Kurt," said Carson.

"Big surprise there," mumbled Santana with an eye roll of her own. Carson glared at her.

"I don't see anything wrong with getting a little church up in here," said Mercedes cheerfully.

"I agree," added Quinn. "I've had a really hard year, and I turned to God a lot for help. I, for one, wouldn't mind saying thanks."

"Thanks for _what_?" spoke up Santana. "That it didn't come out a lizard baby?"

"Whenever I pray, I fall asleep," said Brittany. Carson had to agree with the sentiment there, even if he did think Brittany was a hopeless idiot most of the time.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Schue had agreed with Finn that they should do Religion Week, because God forbid (heh..irony!) that he not kiss Finn's ass every time the knuckle dragger had a stupid idea. And then the entire meeting had devolved into Puck getting up and singing some Billy Joel song. Carson had a feeling it was going to be a very long week.

If only he had known just how trying it would turn out to be.

He was in the middle of his second period American History class, bored out of his skull because Ms. Edwards thought putting in _Pocahontas_ and making the class watch it counted as a suitable supplement to their lesson about the settlement of Jamestown (it wasn't, and Carson was going to tell her as much, but she was sitting at her desk with earbuds in her ears, completely ignoring the class, and Carson just didn't have the energy to argue today) when there was a knock on the classroom door. A nearby student opened it to reveal Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester. Carson wondered what they wanted for a second, and then he saw that Kurt was with them. And he was crying.

Carson was out of his seat so fast that it was entirely possible that he flew out the classroom door. In any case, he reached Kurt's side in about two seconds and wrapped him in a hug, holding him tight.

"What's wrong?" he asked, panic starting to rise in his chest as Kurt sobbed into his shoulder. It had to be something horrible if Kurt was crying like this and there were teachers involved. _If someone hurt him, I swear, I will-_

Kurt was trying to say something, and Carson tried to focus on listening. He managed to catch something that sounded like "Dad" through Kurt's sobs.

_Oh, god. Oh no._

"W-what about Dad?" he asked, holding Kurt tighter to him and looking over at the two adults watching the scene before them with solemn faces. "What's going on?"

Mr. Schue cleared his throat. "Um…Carson, your dad's been taken to the hospital. He had a heart attack this morning."

Carson felt like a lead weight had settled in his stomach at Mr. Schue's words. Surely he hadn't heard him right. Or this was all some elaborate, bullshit prank. But he knew it had to be true. Kurt was hysterical, and Ms. Pillsbury had tears in her own eyes as she looked at the boys.

_He's still alive, though_, he thought, his entire world melting down as he and Kurt suddenly became the only two people who existed at the moment. _They didn't say he was dead. He wouldn't die, anyway. He can't. He's all we have left besides Grandma, and…oh god, it would break Kurt. It would just break him. And that would break me. We can't lose both parents. This isn't supposed to happen._ He felt like crying himself then, but he fought it. He fought it with everything he had, because he had to be strong for Kurt. He couldn't fall apart, because then who would Kurt lean on for strength?

"Carson, why don't you get your things and then Mr. Schuester and I will take you boys to the hospital, ok?" Ms. Pillsbury said gently, her voice breaking through the fog of Carson's brain. He shook his head and stayed where he was, refusing to let go of Kurt even for the thirty seconds it would take for him to go back into the classroom and collect his things. Kurt was all that was keeping him from breaking down right now.

"Right, ok, um…Will, why don't you take them outside and I'll meet you all out there as soon as I've gotten Carson's things and explained the situation to his teacher?" she said to Mr. Schue, who nodded and led the twins out of the school and into the parking lot. Kurt clung to Carson for dear life the entire way to the hospital, his face buried in his chest as he cried softly.

"Shhhh," Carson soothed, rubbing small circles on Kurt's back with his hand. "It's going to be ok. Everything's going to be fine."

He hoped with all his might that this was the truth.

* * *

The four of them sat in the small, cramped waiting room of the hospital's cardiology floor for what seemed like hours, with Kurt actually falling asleep briefly with his head resting against Carson's chest as Carson silently tried to process the fact that him and Kurt becoming orphans in the very near future was an extremely real possibility. He felt like slapping himself for even thinking that, but he couldn't help it. He hoped that Kurt couldn't pick up on his thoughts. He wondered what would happen to them if their father were to actually die. They would probably be put into foster care, and separate homes, at that. Then what? How would either of them be able to get through this if they didn't even have each other? He looked down at Kurt's sleeping, tear-stained face and vowed to stop thinking that way.

_Kurtsie, I promise you, no matter what happens, I won't let us be separated,_ he thought determinedly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his brother's head. _You can depend on me, ok? I'll get us through this._

At long last, the doctor came to find them and Kurt instantly woke up, as if someone had tripped an invisible alarm in his brain.

"Where is he?" he asked, getting up from his chair and hugging his arms across his chest. "Is he dead?"

"No," the doctor informed them solemnly, "he's alive, but I'm sorry, I don't have any other good news."

"I wanna see him," Kurt said, trying to force his way past the doctor, who stopped him and gently pushed him back toward Carson.

"He hasn't regained consciousness," he said.

"I thought he had a heart attack," said Mr. Schuster. Carson had almost forgotten that he and Ms. Pillsbury were even there.

"Brought on by an arrhythmia, which caused a lack of blood to his brain," the doctor informed them. "That's what made him lose consciousness and what's keeping him comatose."

_Comatose_, thought Carson numbly, not really hearing as the doctor continued talking. He was trying to process the word, which sounded less and less the real the more he rolled it around in his brain. _Comatose. Coma. He's in a coma. A coma. Oh, god._ He felt Kurt's hand find his and squeeze.

"I don't understand what you're saying," Kurt said, snapping Carson back to reality. "When is he going to wake up?"

The doctor looked between the twins and sighed. "I don't know."

"Ok, just take us to him now, please," spoke up Mr. Schue. Carson momentarily realized that this was the first time in ever that he wasn't completely annoyed by his presence, and immediately felt bad for even thinking that while their father lay in a room somewhere in the building, possibly dying.

After being reminded again that Burt wasn't conscious and wouldn't be able to hear them, they all were led to his room. Carson tried to mentally steel himself before they entered, and even then he just barely managed not to gasp out loud. The thought of being strong for Kurt kept him from focusing too much on how weak and helpless their father looked like that, or on how much this reminded him of the many times their mother had been laying just like that on this very same floor before she died.

"We need a minute," Kurt said shakily to the adults, his hand gripping Carson's so tightly that Carson couldn't even move his own fingers.

"I don't think you two should be alone, Kurt," said Ms. Pillsbury softly.

"We'll be fine," said Carson, trying not to let too much irritation and worry show through his voice. _Strong for Kurt, Carson. You promised. You have to._ "Just please, go."

"Please, just give us a moment alone with our father," Kurt whispered, his grip on Carson's hand getting even tighter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Carson saw Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury exchange a look, and then Mr. Schue lightly gripped Kurt's shoulder. "We'll be right outside," he said. Kurt nodded, his eyes never leaving the bed in front of them. They, along with the doctor, filed out of the room, leaving the twins alone with their unconscious father. Carson swallowed down a lump in his throat and focused on his and Kurt's joined hands. He was gripping Kurt now just as tightly as Kurt was gripping him. Neither of them said anything for a minute.

"Dad?" Kurt said at last, reaching out his free hand to hold their father's. "Can you hear me? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Nothing happened, obviously, and Carson could feel Kurt start to shake a little. "I'm holding yours right now," Kurt continued, his voice breaking more and more with each passing second. "Just squeeze back. Come on, Dad. Just squeeze my hand," he practically pleaded.

Still nothing happened, and Kurt let out a shaky, strangled sob of frustration. "Why won't he squeeze back?" he asked Carson through his tears. "Why won't he just…Carson, I can't.."

"Oh, Kurtsie," Carson whispered, pulling him into a hug. "He'll wake up. He will. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he will."

They stood there like that for a very long time, neither of them saying anything.

* * *

School the next day was torturous. Carson hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and he knew Kurt hadn't either. They hadn't gotten home until very late, and Carson had been holding a sobbing Kurt for half the night while simultaneously trying not to cry himself. They had woken up late and Carson was all set to just not go to school at all, but Kurt had insisted that it would at least be some semblance of normalcy and better than sitting around at home or the hospital dwelling on their depression. So, school it was. It nearly killed Carson to be in separate classes from Kurt all day, and he didn't see him again until glee club that afternoon (which he did NOT feel like attending, but he knew that Kurt did, so he sucked it up and resolved to get through it as best he could).

He sat in his seat numbly, trying to tune out the world as the other club members came up to them and offered their condolences, He didn't even bother to roll his eyes when Brittany handed Kurt a report she had done on heart attacks, written in crayon. He didn't feel much of anything at all until Finn suddenly stalked into the room, looking pissed off and heading directly toward Kurt.

"What the hell happened?" Finn demanded, glaring at Kurt. Carson immediately went on the defensive. He was having a severely shitty day and he would be damned if anyone was going to start shit with Kurt right now.

"Don't fucking talk to him like that, Finn. I destroyed your face before and I'll do it again," he practically growled, satisfied when he saw Finn flinch slightly. "Don't test me, I swear to god."

"My dad's in the hospital," Kurt replied quietly, placing one hand gently on Carson's shoulder to calm him down.

"I know. My mom just called me. I feel like I'm the last one to know!" Finn whined. Carson was about to tell him to shove it, but Kurt spoke up before he could even open his mouth.

"Well, I'm sorry, Finn. It didn't occur to me to call you, because he's _not your father_," Kurt replied testily. Even through his annoyance with Finn, Carson could swear he felt his heart swell with pride. _Tell him, Kurtsie._

"Well, he's the closest I'm ever gonna get!" Finn retorted, and Carson could practically feel the waves of _fuck you_ rolling off of Kurt as he glared at Finn. "I know it may not look like what everybody else has, but I thought we were sort of a family."

_A family? Are you fucking kidding me? _thought Carson irritably. _Um, no. Kurt and I, and our dad, are a family. You, as of this moment in time, are not a part of our family, mostly because of the disgusting way you treated Kurt in our home. So, fuck you._Apparently, Kurt was thinking the same thing, because he just shook his head and sat down beside Carson, although he did grudgingly move the bag he had set down on the other empty seat next to him in silent permission for Finn to sit there. Finn tried to grip his shoulder, and Carson wanted so much to laugh right out loud when Kurt shrugged him off and wagged his finger.

_Burn_, Carson thought. He put his own arm around Kurt and gave Finn a glare that he hoped came across as "_Back off if you value your face_."

"Hey, guys," said Mr. Schue as he entered the choir room after everybody else. "Our thoughts are all with Kurt and Carson, and I know it's sort of hard to really focus on anything right-"

"Mr. Schue?" Mercedes interrupted, raising her hand in the air. "I've been struggling trying to figure out what I want to say to Kurt and his brother all day, and I realized I don't want to say it, I want to sing it."

Mr. Schue waved her forward, and Mercedes got up and walked to the front of the room, clutching sheet music in her hand. "This song is about being in a very dark place and turning to God," she said, handing the sheets to Brad the piano man. "It's a spiritual song, Mr. Schue. Is that ok?"

"That's fine," he answered. Kurt and Carson exchanged a look. What were they supposed to say? Tina and Quinn joined Mercedes up front and sang a song Carson had never heard of and which was making him super uncomfortable, seeing as how neither him nor Kurt were the least bit religious.

"Thank you, Mercedes," Kurt said carefully after she had finished singing. "Your voice is stunning, but I don't believe in God."

From the reactions of everyone in the choir room, you would have thought Kurt had just said that he enjoys ritual child murder on the weekends every now and then.

"Wait, what?" Tina asked incredulously on the way back to her seat.

"You've all professed your beliefs. I'm just stating mine," said Kurt calmly. Carson was so proud of him.

"I don't believe, either," Carson said. "You don't all have to look so damn shocked. It's not a crime to be an atheist."

"I think God is kind of like Santa Clause for adults," said Kurt, looking around the room and growing bolder. "Otherwise, God's kind of a jerk, isn't he? I mean, he makes me gay and then has his followers go around telling me it's something that I chose. As if someone would _choose_ to be mocked every single day of their life."

_Oh, Kurtsie_, thought Carson, squeezing his hand gently.

"And right now, I don't want a heavenly father. I want my real one back," Kurt finished, squeezing Carson's hand back.

"But Kurt, how do you know for sure? You can't prove that there's no God," said Mercedes quietly. Carson closed his eyes and tried really hard to fight the urge to tell her to shut up, because he was in no mood right now. But seriously, what the fuck? Had Kurt not _just_ finished saying why he didn't believe? Why did she have to push it?

"You can't prove that there isn't a magic teapot floating around on the dark side of the moon with a dwarf inside of it that reads romance novels and shoots lightning out of its boobs, but it seems pretty unlikely, doesn't it?" was Kurt's awesome reply. Carson actually snorted despite his gloomy mood and brought his free hand up to his mouth. _Oh shit, Kurtsie, that was fucking CLASSIC. I love you so much._

"We shouldn't be talking like this! It isn't right!" exclaimed Quinn fiercely. Ok, that was it. Carson had had enough.

"Well, Princess, we wouldn't have to be talking like this if people would just live and let live, and let everyone believe what they want without forcing their views on others," he said. "So, as soon as everyone just agrees to believe what they believe and let Kurt and I do the same, then we can get back to not preparing for sectionals, or whatever we're doing this week."

Kurt nodded beside him and got up, pulling Carson with him. "You all can believe what you want, but we can't believe something we don't," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder with his free hand. "I appreciate your thoughts, but I don't want your prayers."

"Ditto," agreed Carson as they left the room.

"Assholes," he muttered when they were out in the hallway. "Where do they get off trying to force their own beliefs on us at a time like this? Especially when you fucking explained WHY you believe what you believe."

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed. "I know, I know, can we just not talk about it? I'm not in the mood."

Carson nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

Kurt shook his head. "No, don't be. I'm just…you know."

"I know," Carson said quietly, pulling him into a hug. "I know. You and I are in this together, Kurt. Don't forget that."

* * *

Days went by, and their father's condition remained exactly the same. No worse, but no better, either. Kurt cried himself to sleep night after night in Carson's arms as Carson held him and patiently waited for him to fall asleep before letting himself shed a few tears of his own. He was surprised that Kurt didn't seem to be having any sleepwalking episodes, but he figured that was probably due to the poor guy being so exhausted at the end of the night that he didn't even have the energy to sleepwalk.

And things in glee club were getting extremely volatile since Kurt had taken Sue Sylvester's advice and filed a formal complaint against the school because of the club's Religion Week.

They were all extremely lucky that Carson had skipped the glee meeting during which they all bitched at Kurt for this (Rachel had apparently even complained that she'd had the perfect spiritual song snatched away from her), because he'd had just about enough of their bullshit and would have happily told them all where to go and what to do when they got there. The day he and Kurt arrived at the hospital to find Rachel (along with Carole, Finn, Mercedes, and Quinn) having a fucking spiritual sing-along at their father's bedside had been the day Carson finally snapped.

"What the fuck do we need to do in order for you people to get that we _don't want prayers_?" he had exclaimed angrily, as loudly as he dared, considering they were in a hospital and there were other patients on the floor. "Do we need to walk around with neon signs that say "Thanks, but no thanks?" Because fuck, we will if that's what it takes. I don't know where you all get off thinking that this is in any way appropriate. If you want to pray for him, then fine. Have at it as much as you want. In your own homes, on your own time. Do NOT subject us to it. We've asked you nicely, and it would be really fucking awesome if you could respect our wishes. Now, everybody GET OUT!...Not you," he added apologetically to the acupuncturist who had entered the room in the middle of his speech and whose mouth was hanging open in astonishment at Carson's words. "You stay. The rest of you, get lost!"

Everyone had sheepishly left the room, looking slightly terrified of Carson, and Kurt had just looked at him in awe.

"That was passionate," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well, I'm sick of their crap," Carson muttered.

The next glee club meeting Carson attended wasn't actually one he had planned on attending. He had been cornered by Kurt near his locker, and Kurt had practically begged him to come.

"I want to sing something about…about Dad….and I don't know if I can do it if you aren't there," Kurt had said, his face conspicuously devoid of the pout he usually would have used when he wanted something. Carson had nodded anyway.

"Of course, Kurt. Of course I will," he said, taking Kurt's hand and leading them both in the direction of the choir room.

Minutes later (after a pointless announcement that Finn was the new McKinley football quarterback again, as if anyone gave half a shit), Carson found himself staring at Kurt, who was standing in the front of the room looking nervous but brave.

"I wanted to thank everyone for your kind emails and queries about our dad," he said quietly, "but, for your information, his condition remains the same. I need to express myself. So, with your permission, Mr. Schue," he said, turning to the teacher, "I've prepared a number for the occasion."

"Of course, Kurt," Mr. Schue replied, taking a seat and giving Kurt the floor. Kurt caught Carson's eye briefly before he began speaking.

"On the day of my mom's funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying," he began, his voice already shaking.

_Oh, Kurt._ Carson hoped he could get through this without finally breaking down and crying in public. He remembered all too well the day of their mother's funeral. He could still feel every emotion he had felt as if it were yesterday.

"I mean, that was it," Kurt continued. "That was the last time I was ever going to see her. And I remember, I looked up at my dad and I…I just wanted him to say something. Just something to make me feel like my whole world wasn't over."

Carson looked down at his shoes.

"And he just took my hand and squeezed it. And…just knowing that those hands were there to take care of me…that was enough." Carson looked up just in time to catch Kurt looking right at him as he said "Those hands." Something inside of him, deep in his stomach, began to hurt.

"This is for my dad," Kurt finished before beginning to sing the most beautiful, haunting rendition of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" that Carson had ever heard in his life. Carson very nearly stopped caring about his promise to stay strong, because Kurt's beautiful yet melancholy voice was stirring up so many emotions within him. Through incredible willpower, he just barely managed not to cry, even though everyone else in the club was. He wasn't focused on them, anyway. He was focused only on Kurt. It was just him and Kurt, and the rest of the world had fallen away. He knew, somehow, that the song was meant just as much for him as it was for their father.

The painful thing inside began to hurt more.

"Are you ok?" he asked Kurt later that night as flopped down beside him on the living room couch. Kurt had been very quiet throughout the rest of the day and had barely said a word. He hadn't even wanted to go to the hospital that afternoon, which surprised Carson, but was just as well. They were both too emotional today, and it wouldn't do any of them any good.

"I'm fine," said Kurt.

"No, you're not. Neither of us are fine," said Carson, holding his arms out as Kurt gratefully fell into them, resting one hand on Carson's chest and his head on his shoulder.

"I just….Carson, what if he never wakes up?" Kurt asked shakily, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if he dies? What would happen to us? We'd be orphans, Carson. We'd be alone in the world."

"Hey," Carson said, lifting Kurt's chin up gently with one finger. "No, we wouldn't be. If Dad were to…were to leave us….we'd still have each other. We would, always. Forever. I promise you that. Do you really think I'd ever let us lose each other?"

Kurt shook his head. "No."

"Right," said Carson, looking him right in the eyes as his hand gently cupped the side of Kurt's face. "I love you so much, more than anything. And I would work my ass off to get us through it together if the worst happened. Ok?"

Kurt nodded, his eyes never leaving Carson's. "Ok," he whispered, one hand coming up to softly cover the one Carson had on his face. "I love you, too," he said, his voice cracking.

They froze like that for a minute, staring into each other's eyes, Carson's hand still on Kurt's face and Kurt's hand still covering his. The painful thing Carson had felt in glee club earlier returned full force, but he just now realized that it wasn't pain. It was…something else. He didn't want to dwell too much on what that was. All he could focus on anyway was Kurt. Kurt in his arms, looking up at him and breathing quickly and blushing (when had he started to blush, Carson wondered) and suddenly Carson found himself leaning his face closer to Kurt's as his gaze zeroed in on Kurt's full, pink lips. It was just like it had been that day out in the snow, except they weren't freezing and it seemed this time as if Kurt's face was leaning toward Carson's just as much as Carson's was leaning toward his (but no, that had to be his imagination, right?)

_Oh, no. Oh, fuck, no, please, I can't…_

Carson had the really bad feeling that his kiss wasn't going to land on Kurt's cheek this time, and time seemed to stand still as every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop, but he couldn't. He had resigned himself to the fact that he was about to kiss Kurt. That was it. He was going to kiss him and Kurt was going to be so confused and disgusted, and Carson would be disgusted with_himself_, and _oh god, Carson, please, get a hold of yourself! _Kurt's lips were so close to his own now, just the bare minimum of space between them, and Carson closed his eyes and waited for it to be over.

The sound of the doorbell startled his eyes open, and he blinked in confusion for several seconds before realizing that he was still less than an inch away from covering Kurt's lips with his own. He moved his head back and dropped his hand from Kurt's face, trying to breathe normally as Kurt stared at him with his eyes wide and his lips still parted, as though he had also been anticipating a kiss.

He hadn't been, of course. He couldn't have been.

The doorbell rang again and Carson eagerly jumped up from the couch to answer it, silently thanking his lucky stars for whoever it was on the other side of the door, because they had just saved him from traumatizing his twin for life. It turned out to be Mrs. Thomas from next door, dropping off a casserole and offering her condolences for the hard time he and Kurt were going through right now. Carson thanked her and closed the door, setting the casserole dish down on the kitchen counter before he noticed that Kurt had disappeared down into their bedroom.

_You almost kissed him. AGAIN,_ he admonished himself. _You have GOT to stop this shit, Carson. It's not healthy, and it's actually really creepy of you. Oh god, what would you have done if you HAD kissed him? What then? How would you have explained that to him? He'd never trust you again, and he'd have a good reason not to._

Carson sighed and wondered, not for the first time, why his life had to always be so fucking complicated.

* * *

"You told Mercedes you'd do what?" Carson asked disbelievingly as he sat on their bed and watched Kurt get dressed in one of his best outfits on Sunday morning.

"I said I'd go to church with her," replied Kurt, trying on an assortment of different hats in front of the mirror.

"WHY?"

Kurt sighed and turned to face Carson. "Look, I just think that maybe I might have been too harsh in telling everyone not to pray for us and Dad," he said tiredly. "If that's how they think they can do some good, I should respect that."

"Whoa, WHAT?" asked Carson. "Why should you have to respect them? Did they bother respecting us when they sang religious songs at us in glee club? Or when they infiltrated Dad's room to sing songs at _him_? Or when they bitched at you for filing that complaint? Or tried to make you feel like a horrible person for not believing in their magic sky fairy? Hmm? Were they respecting you or us then?"

"I guess not," Kurt mumbled as he seemed to finally decide on a black feathered hat to go with his suit. "And believe me, all of that still pisses me off, too. But I don't want to push my friends away, and it's only one morning at church. How bad can it be?" His phone lit up with a text message and he read it quickly. "That's Mercedes. She's outside. How do I look?"

Carson crossed his arms. "Like you are entirely too accommodating for your own good."

Kurt smiled and crossed over to Carson, giving him a small kiss on the cheek, which made that non-pain thing return in Carson's stomach again. "I'll see you this afternoon, Carson."

"Yeah, don't forget that the acupuncturist is coming back at 2:00," Carson called after him as Kurt headed up the stairs. "Just meet me at the hospital."

"Ok," was Kurt's reply before Carson heard the front door open and close.

_Honestly, Kurt, I wasn't joking. You are WAY too nice for your own good, and none of your friends appreciate or respect you the way they should._

* * *

Carson sat in the journalism classroom several days later, hunched over his laptop as he diligently typed up a couple of stories he wanted to put in next week's paper. Their father's condition still had not improved, and Carson couldn't take the constant waiting by his bedside anymore. It drove him insane that there was nothing that they could do and no way of knowing when or if things would ever get better. It was even worse than the situation with their grandmother. Carson had told Kurt to just go on without him that afternoon. He hated the thought of Kurt sitting in that hospital room alone, but he needed a break for just one day.

He also needed something to distract him from what had almost happened on the living room couch the other day. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since, and he felt guiltier and guiltier every time he did. He felt so _very _guilty, and yet he couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted by the doorbell. What would have happened if he had actually kissed Kurt. Specifically, how warm and soft Kurt's lips would have been against his own, and how wonderful it would have been. Carson shivered at the very thought.

_Oh my god, STOP IT!_

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts and he glanced down at the caller ID. It was Kurt.

"Hey," he said, picking up the phone and taking his glasses off.

"Carson! Carson, oh my god, he woke up!"

Carson bolted out of his chair and stood up, nearly dropping his phone in the process. "He did? WHEN?"

"Just a few minutes ago. The nurses are looking him over right now. Carson, you've got to get over here. Please! I can't handle this by myself." Carson could hear crying in Kurt's voice, but he could also hear something he hadn't heard since the day of their father's heart attack. He could hear joy. And hope.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Carson promised, already shutting his laptop and shoving it into his bag. "I'm leaving now."

"Hurry," Kurt pleaded. Carson rushed out of the school and into the parking lot, silently cheering the fact that he had the car, since Kurt had gotten a ride to the hospital from Mercedes on her way home. He drove as fast as he dared and reached the hospital in less than fifteen minutes, a new record. He'd just barely stepped inside his father's room when he suddenly found himself with his arms full of Kurt as his twin launched himself at him and hugged him tight.

"He's awake," he said excitedly into Carson's neck. "He's awake and he's going to be ok!"

Carson smiled and hugged him back, glancing over to the bed, where their father lay surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses, his eyes finally open after being in the coma for so long. It was such a wonderful sight to see that it took Carson a minute to realize that Finn and Carole were also in the room. He might not have even noticed them at all if he hadn't heard Finn's voice muttering something about grilled cheese. Oh, yes. That reminded Carson of something he had overheard Ms. Pillsbury talking to Mr. Schue about in the hallway the other day. Something that he kind of wanted to talk to Finn about.

"Finn," he said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. "Can I see you out in the hallway for just a sec?"

Finn looked both confused and terrified, but nodded and followed Carson out of the room and down the hall. Carson led them to a quiet corner near a set of elevator doors and faced Finn with his arms crossed.

"Finn," he said sweetly, "am I to understand that all this time you've had what you truly believed was a grilled cheese sandwich imbued with all the powers of Jesus?"

Finn frowned and nodded. "Yeah, dude, but now I know that it was just…you know…a regular sandwi-"

Carson held a hand up to stop him from talking. "Be that as it may, up until recently, you believed you had a magical wish-granting sandwich. Correct?"

Finn nodded, clearly wondering where this was going.

"And you had this magic sandwich during the time that my dad, the very same man whom you yourself claimed to view as family, was laying comatose in a hospital bed and we were unsure whether or not he'd ever wake up?" Carson asked.

"Uh-"

"And you, fully believing that your magical genie sandwich could grant wishes, chose to ask it for permission to touch your troll girlfriend's boobs? And also to be reinstated as the quarterback on the football team? Is all this information true and correct, Finn?" Carson continued, his voice getting dangerously low the longer he talked.

"I-"

"Finn. Is. That. Truthful. Information?"

Finn nodded reluctantly. Carson gave him a wide smile.

"That's all I needed to know." He stepped closer to Finn, considered him for a moment, and then reached one hand back and slapped him hard in the back of the neck.

"OW! Dude, what the hell?" Finn exclaimed, clutching his neck and wincing.

"Oh, that was for being a selfish prick," Carson said lightly. "You could have asked your fucking sandwich to wake my dad up, asshole, especially after all that bullshit you said to Kurt about us being a family." He turned around and marched back into Burt's room, leaving a very confused looking Finn behind in the hall.

* * *

_I almost kissed him. I ALMOST KISSED HIM._

That had been the recurring thought in Kurt's brain for the past few weeks, ever since that night on the living room couch. If Mrs. Thomas hadn't interrupted by choosing that moment to deliver her casserole, Kurt was quite sure he would have attached his lips to Carson's and never let them go. He had come close, so very close, and he had wanted to stop, but he could feel his willpower slipping away and knew he wouldn't be able to.

_I almost kissed him_.

That one thought popped into Kurt's brain at the most random times. It didn't matter what he was doing. He could be in class, or in the middle of glee club rehearsal, or hunting all over town for saffron to add to the heart-healthy soup he was making for his dad. No matter where he was or what he was doing, _I almost kissed him_ would just surface in his mind and he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about what had very nearly happened.

Sometimes he wondered what _would_ have happened if he had actually kissed Carson. How Carson's lips would have felt against his own. They had kissed on the lips all the time when they were little kids, but it had been years since they had done that, and this kiss would have been different, anyway. It wouldn't have been a brotherly kiss on Kurt's part at all, and he knew it. It would have had feelings behind it. Complicated feelings that Kurt hated himself for having. Feelings that it actually scared the crap out of him to be feeling.

Which was why, he supposed, he had been so insistent about wanting to sing with the new kid for Mr. Schue's duet competition in glee club. He hadn't even been sure at the time if Sam was gay or not, but he'd thought it was at least within the realm of possibility, and Kurt desperately wanted…no…_needed_ a boyfriend in the worst way. A boyfriend would finally be the thing he needed to stop thinking about Carson so damn much and finally start feeling like a normal person. One who didn't have romantic feelings for his own twin brother.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, he guessed), he had let Finn talk him into not singing with Sam. Which was just as well, since Sam had turned out to be undeniably straight anyway, and Kurt would have just ended up feeling like an idiot, just like he had last year with Finn.

"Finn's a homophobic douchebag," had been Carson's take on the situation. "And anyway, you don't need to duet with what Sam guy. I'll sing with you, if you want. I'm not sure how good I'll be at it, but I'll try."

Kurt had smiled and thanked him, but insisted that this wouldn't be necessary. Singing a duet with Carson was the absolute last thing he needed to do if he wanted to be distracted from his stupid, disturbing feelings for him. He had ended up just singing a duet with himself (and one with Rachel later on, which had positively horrified Carson).

So, since Sam hadn't exactly worked out for him, Kurt supposed he was right back where he started. Secretly falling in love with his own brother and hating himself for it. Great. At least he had the glee club's upcoming performance of_Rocky Horror_ to distract him.

"Wearing that wig every rehearsal is doing such a number on my hair," he complained one evening as the twins prepared for bed. "It's seriously _ruining_ my scalp."

"Why don't you just not wear the wig until the actual performance, then?" asked Carson, slipping a T-shirt on as he spoke. Kurt tried not to notice his gorgeous, shirtless chest before the shirt covered it, but he was unsuccessful. Carson was filling out, and it was so hot.

"I can't get fully into Riff Raff's character that way," Kurt answered, his gaze still focused on Carson's now clothed chest and the stunning way the tight shirt clung to it. "So I guess I'm willing to suffer for my art."

"You're so dedicated," Carson said with a yawn, climbing into bed. Kurt capped the last of his face creams and joined him, settling into his usual position facing away from Carson as his twin wrapped his arms around him and gently kissed his ear. Kurt shivered slightly, despite the rush of heat that pooled in his stomach at the gesture.

"Good night, Carsey," he said quietly.

"'Night, Kurtsie. Pleasant dreams," he replied. They both were asleep within minutes.

Kurt awoke several hours later, blinking his eyes as they adjusted to the dark room and cursing the fact that he was probably going to have a hard time getting back to sleep now. It took him a minute to figure out what it was that had woken him up, until he heard a soft moan from behind him and felt a tell-tale hardness against his back.

Oh. Carson must have been having another exciting dream, then. Kurt felt himself blush from his hair to his feet, and he was so grateful that the room was dark and that Carson was asleep so that he didn't have to worry about it being seen. Carson seriously let out the sexiest little noises when he was dreaming about _that_, and between that and the feeling of his hard dick pressing up against him, Kurt was getting dizzy. And also hard himself.

"Oh…_oh…_love you so much…" Carson moaned, clear as a bell. Kurt tried to suppress the wave of insane jealousy that passed through him at the words. Just who was Carson dreaming about, he wondered. Who the hell was it and why was Carson telling them that he loved them? Carson hated everybody, and nobody would be good enough for him anyway.

"Mmm," Carson sighed as he bucked his hips a little, and Kurt grew harder inside his own pajama pants as he wondered what it would be like to turn around and watch Carson as he dreamed. To see how he looked when he was clearly in the throes of passion in his own mind. To see what his face looked like when he came.

Another breathy "Oh!" from Carson made up Kurt's mind. He very slowly disentangled himself from Carson's grip, praying that he didn't wake him up in the process. He felt Carson's erection brush against his back as he maneuvered himself and bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud. Carson had no such reservations, the lucky bastard, and gasped when it happened.

After what seemed like hours, Kurt finally managed to free himself from Carson's hold and slowly turn himself around to face him. Even in the dark he could tell that Carson's cheeks were flushed. His lips were slightly parted as he let out a stream of breathy moans, and his pajama pants were tented with his arousal as he futilely thrust his hips against nothing now that Kurt's back was no longer there for him to rub against, causing a slight frustrated frown to darken his face. It was the most beautiful, erotic thing Kurt had ever seen.

"I love you," Carson said again between gasps. "So beautiful….so perfect.."

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to imagine, as he guiltily snuck his hands down his own pants and started stroking himself, that it was him Carson was dreaming about. That he was the one Carson was calling beautiful and perfect, and that it was him that Carson was saying he loved.

"Carson," he moaned in a whisper as he felt heat pooling in his stomach and building. Carson's moans and gasps where getting louder, faster, and more frequent as he moved his hips, and the temptation Kurt felt to touch him was so strong it nearly killed him. He just barely managed to stop himself. He stroked himself faster to the rhythm of Carson's moans and thrusts, and felt himself inching closer to orgasm. He imagined being underneath Carson, of being held there securely while Carson made love to him, and he felt his body go taut. He was right there, he just needed…

Carson let out a long moan just then as he bucked his hips and came entirely untouched. His eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks flushed even more, and his mouth formed a perfect "O" as he gasped his way through it. Just the sight of him like that sent Kurt careening over the edge into his own release as he let out his own gasps and tried to stop himself from thinking how much he would love to scream out Carson's name.

* * *

_He knew, somehow, that this was a dream. It was not his first dream like this, and at this point, it probably wouldn't be his last. But he was able to forget about that when he could see Kurt spread out on their bed, illuminated by lit candles and wearing that stupid Riff Raff costume, the one that had been giving Carson so many filthy thoughts for days. Well, he was kind of wearing it. The jacket was off. The shirt was half unbuttoned, and he wasn't wearing the wig. Because Kurt didn't really like that wig. He was biting his lip and propping himself up on his elbows and waiting for something. What was he waiting for?_

_"Carson," he said quietly. "Carson, I need you. Please."_

_Oh. OH. He was waiting for HIM. Carson crossed the room over to the bed where Kurt lay and just looked at him for a minute, taking in the absolute stunning perfection before him. Kurt was breathing hard already, his chest heaving and his lips swollen and so red against his pale skin._

_"Carson," he begged._

_Carson leaned down onto the bed, situating his body between Kurt's spread legs and leaning his face down to attach his lips to Kurt's. He kissed him hungrily, catching Kurt's bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling slightly, causing Kurt to moan into his mouth. His hand roamed down Kurt's clothed chest and past his stomach until it came to the straining arousal in his pants. He cupped Kurt through the fabric and Kurt gasped, bucking his hips up into Carson's hand._

_And then Carson wasn't sure what happened, but it must have been some kind of dream magic, because suddenly they were both completely naked, and fuck, he had never seen such a beautiful sight in all his life. He kissed his way down Kurt's neck, sucking and nibbling greedily at the skin, not wanting to destroy the perfect porcelain yet wanting to mark Kurt all over at the same time so that everyone knew he belonged to someone. To him, specifically, and that nobody was ever allowed to touch._

_"I love you so much," he whispered, kissing the creamy expanse of Kurt's chest and sucking one nipple into his mouth, causing Kurt to moan loudly and grip at Carson's shoulders._

_"Oh my god," Kurt gasped. "Carson, I….mmph…" He bit his lip as Carson kissed down his stomach and then pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his beautiful dick._

_"What is it, Kurtsie? What is it, baby? Tell me," Carson said, reaching his fingers out to softly stroke up and down the length of Kurt._

_"I…I want…" Kurt couldn't seem to get the words out as Carson planted kisses along the length of his erection, sticking his tongue out to lap delicately at the head._

_"Hmm? What is it you want? Just tell me, and I'll give it to you, Kurt, I swear I will."_

_"I want you, Carson," Kurt gasped, his chest rising and falling from the effort to keep breathing. "I want you to make love to me. P-please."_

_Carson moaned and dived back in to kiss Kurt's lips again, his hands placed on either side of Kurt's face as he kissed him slow and deep._

_"Of course, Kurtsie. Of course I will. Oh fuck, I love you so much."_

_"I love you, too," Kurt breathed._

_And then the dream magic must have been at work again, because one minute Carson was panicking that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing or how to go about this without hurting Kurt (and he would seriously rather die first), and the next minute he was above Kurt, and Kurt's legs were wrapped tightly around his back, and Carson was…oh god, he was thrusting into him, slowly and gently, and everything was so overwhelmingly good. Kurt's head was thrown back in pleasure and Carson took the opportunity to kiss the tempting skin of his exposed throat._

_"I love you," he moaned against Kurt's skin, continuing to make love to him. "So beautiful….so perfect."_

_Kurt raised his hips up to meet Carson's thrusts and they found a rhythm as they rocked together. Carson reached for Kurt's hands and clasped them together with his own as he felt himself inching closer to his climax._

_"Uh…uh…oh my…hrrng…oh…Carson!" Kurt moaned loudly, and Carson felt Kurt's dick twitching as he came between them, his head thrashing from side to side._

_Carson let out a long moan of his own as the sight of Kurt's orgasm sent him tumbling into his own, his lips wanting to form the name "Kurt" but unable to. He had literally lost the ability to speak._

Carson awoke with a start, breathing hard as he tried to remember where he was. The events of his dream were still replaying in his mind as he slowly came to the realization that he was in their bedroom, in the dark, with Kurt sleeping beside him, and that his pajama pants were full of drying come. Again.

_Oh, fuck, I hope Kurt slept through that_, he thought, leaning slightly over Kurt and slowly waving a hand in front of his face. No response. Good.

Carson sighed and flopped back against the pillows. This dream had been so much more intense than his first few. He and Kurt had never actually finished before, for one thing. And Carson had never said "I love you" during before, either.

"I love you."

He had said that, hadn't he? That's what had just happened in his dream. He had made love to Kurt. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath as realization dawned on him.

He was in love with Kurt. In love. LOVE. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, no matter how much he hoped it would go away, it wasn't going to. Kurt was his everything. Literally.

And he could never know. Carson wouldn't let him know. That would be entirely too much for Kurt to deal with. No, it was best if Carson just kept it to himself. It would kill him, but he would do it to protect Kurt.

"I love you," he whispered, burying his mouth in his pillow to muffle the words even further. "I love you."


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: As usual, our readers are made of rainbows and smiles and we cherish every review we get as though they were our precious, precious children. (No, seriously. We do). So, yes, this is the first chapter with Blaine. Also, be warned that it's about 95 percent angst, considering where we are in the canon storyline. And it's also the longest chapter we've ever written. So...we really hope you like it. Ok, let's read!**

Now that he was certain about his feelings for Kurt, Carson was pretty much living in a constant state of worry. Was he being too obvious? Could other people tell? Most importantly, could _Kurt_ tell? Carson wasn't sure what he'd do if Kurt ever found out. Kurt would surely be weirded out and uncomfortable, and probably disgusted, and Carson didn't know if he could handle it if that happened. He didn't ever want to see Kurt's beautiful ocean eyes clouded over with distrust or disappointment when they looked at him. He'd rather die first.

So he just tried his best to act normal around Kurt (as normal as a person could act when they were secretly in love with their own twin brother, anyway). If he just acted the way he'd always acted around him, nobody would ever have to know. Everybody wins.

Everybody except him, that is. He'd be slowly dying inside, actually, because the one thing he wanted most in the world, even more than getting into Northwestern and achieving all of his career goals, was something that he could never have. He sometimes wondered what horrible thing he may have done in a previous life to be doomed to suffer so much in this one. Maybe he had been a recreational puppy kicker or something. At least if he was suffering, it meant that Kurt didn't have to.

In any case, there was nothing to do but just go on as he always had, which meant throwing himself into his schoolwork and dealing with the flaming pile of stupidity that was the glee club. Currently, they were supposed to be preparing for a repeat of the boys vs. girls mashup competition from the previous year. It was still just as much of a waste of time as it was before, except now Mr. Schuester had hit upon the oh-so-brilliant idea to have the boys sing girls' songs and the girls sing boys' songs. Carson had no idea how things were going on the girls' front (they were probably being terrified into submission by Rachel), but nobody on the boys' team was enjoying this except for Kurt. Kurt was in his element the day they met up in an empty classroom to discuss costumes for their performance, having come prepared with visual aids and a pointer stick. It was adorable, and a relief for Carson to see, since Kurt had actually been extremely quiet and moody lately for some reason.

"Now," he said, tapping his pointer stick against a poster board he had decorated with a photo of himself surrounded by various options he was considering for their costumes, "Obviously, for this medley to work, I'm gonna have to sing lead. And, of course, when you're singing Diana Ross, Bob Mackie-esque marabou feather boas are a _must_."

"Isn't this lesson about opposites?" Artie asked from his seat. "You in a sequined gown and a feather boa is exactly what you'd expect." Carson shot him a glare. _God, Artie, shut the fuck up. Who said anything about a gown, anyway?_

"Ok, who said anything about a gown?" Kurt asked. Carson smiled.

"Uh, dude, why don't you make yourself useful and go put some rat poison in them old folks' Jell-o, or visit the Garglers," said Puck, getting the name of their upcoming sectionals competition wrong.

"The _Warblers_," Kurt corrected him.

"Whatever," said Puck. "See what they're up to. You can wear all the feathers you want. You'll blend right in!"

"Hey, fuck you, Puckerman," Carson snapped. "Why don't you let him talk? I don't see _you_ coming up with any brilliant ideas for costumes or anything else."

"No, you know what? Fine," Kurt said exasperatedly, gathering up his posterboard and stalking out of the room in a huff. Carson got up from his seat and shot an icy glare Puck's way.

"Happy?" he said angrily before following Kurt out into the hall.

"All I needed them to do was listen to my suggestions," Kurt complained when Carson caught up with him. "That was it. Nobody ever just lets me finish my thought before they start tearing it apart." He crumpled the posterboard up and shoved it in a nearby trash can, which made Carson wince. Kurt had worked hard on that board.

"Aaaw, Kurt, I was listening," said Carson. He placed one hand on Kurt's shoulder and Kurt stiffened slightly. "Puck's just an idiot. He just got out of juvie, what does he even know about putting on a good performance?"

"I guess," Kurt mumbled. "Can we just go home?"

"Yeah," agreed Carson. "Sure."

* * *

Carson woke up slowly and blinked, unsure at first what had woken him up. He yawned and reached across the bed for Kurt, his hand coming into contact with nothing but sheets and blankets. So that was what had woken him up. Kurt was gone.

"Shit," Carson mumbled, hopping out of bed and turning on the light. "Not again, Kurt." Kurt must have been sleepwalking again. That would make the third time this week, and after he had gone so very long without an episode, too.

"Kurt?" he whispered quietly, looking around the room. No Kurt. He must have wandered upstairs. Carson crept up the stairs as quietly as he could, finding the door to the basement already open. Yep, Kurt had definitely been there. He tiptoed into the hallway and then to the kitchen. Kurt was still nowhere to be found.

_"Where are you, Kurtsie?"_ Carson thought to himself, making his way into the living room. A small thud directed his attention to the corner next to the television, where Kurt was slumped against the wall, one hand lazily brushing his shoulder as he glared at something Carson couldn't see.

"What is your problem?" Kurt said loudly to the invisible something (someone?) as Carson crossed over to him and gently helped him up.

"Shhh, Kurt, come on," he whispered as he guided Kurt back toward the basement stairs. "Let's get back to bed before we wake up Dad, hmm?" He managed to get Kurt down the stairs without much effort, although Kurt didn't seem to want to have his shoulders touched and squirmed away every time Carson tried to guide him that way. He settled for leading him by the hands instead.

"Come on, Kurt, get in bed," he said softly, leading Kurt to his side of the bed and gently nudging him until Kurt got the hint and climbed in. "There you go." He went around to his own side and climbed in beside him, wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist and placing a soft kiss to his jawline.

"Go to sleep, Kurtsie," he whispered. "I love you."

As he waited for Kurt to relax into a full state of sleep, Carson wondered, for what seemed like the thousandth time in recent memory, just what exactly was going on with his twin. Today hadn't been the first time that Kurt had been in a mysterious funk. In the weeks since _Rocky Horror_, Kurt had become more and more moody and withdrawn. He wasn't talkative anymore and couldn't seem to work up any enthusiasm for anything. He didn't even take Carson up on his recent offer to watch all the Disney movies Kurt wanted, even _The Little Mermaid_, which Carson had thought for sure would cheer him up just a little. Hell, he hadn't even bothered to argue with Rachel several days earlier when she had volunteered herself for the latest solo Mr. Schuester was considering for sectionals. Sometimes he seemed like he would rather be literally anywhere else than at school. And now, he'd taken to sleepwalking on a nightly basis, sometimes accompanied by shaking and whimpering, which Carson knew meant he was having a nightmare.

There was definitely something going on with him. Something had to be triggering those nightmares, and even though Kurt flat-out denied it, Carson strongly suspected that someone might have been bothering him at school. Someone on the football team, most likely, as they had the most homophobic jackasses out of any other team at McKinley. It was just so hard to know for sure. Carson and Kurt didn't have any classes together this semester, so they routinely went whole school days without seeing each other except for lunch period and glee club rehearsals, with Kurt occasionally dropping by the journalism classroom to hang out when he knew Carson would be there. If someone was bothering Kurt in class, Carson wouldn't have any way of knowing unless Kurt told him. And Kurt wasn't talking. Carson had asked him on more than one occasion if anything was wrong and Kurt repeatedly insisted that he was fine.

"Nothing more than the usual," was his stock answer. "You know that jerks will be jerks. Nothing I can't handle." But it had to be more than that. Carson knew Kurt well enough to know when he wasn't being quite honest. And he usually only ever had sleepwalking episodes or nightmares when he was stressed, worried, or sick.

_"Kurtsie, what's going on?" _Carson thought, stroking his fingers softly down Kurt's arm through the silky fabric of his pajama top. "_I wish you'd tell me so I could help you. If someone is bothering you, I swear to god I will kick their ass and make them regret ever even looking at you the wrong way, but you have to talk to me. I can't do anything for you if I don't know what's going on."_

He kissed Kurt one more time on the tip of his ear and closed his eyes, though he had a hard time falling back asleep.

* * *

Kurt waited until after homeroom the next day before he dared leave school grounds. He and Carson were together all morning before the first bell rang and they shared the same homeroom. If Kurt wasn't there, Carson would want to know why, and Kurt had a feeling that Carson would greatly disapprove of his plan to spend the day spying on the Dalton Academy Warblers. He had seen Kurt Googling them the night before and had already declared them to be creepy.

"They're like something out of _Village of the Damned_," he had said, frowning at the photos on the school's website that showed various smiling teenage boys all dressed in identical navy blazers and grey pants. "No, seriously, I wouldn't be surprised if they had, like, telekinetic powers or something and they murdered people with those powers on the weekends just for fun."

"Where do you come up with this stuff?" Kurt had asked him.

"I have a very vivid imagination, I guess," Carson had answered as Kurt had gone into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. He'd started doing that a lot lately. He had to, otherwise Carson would be sure to see the impressive collection of bruises that Kurt kept accumulating on his back and shoulders from being constantly slammed into lockers by Karofsky. It was pretty much a daily occurrence by now, and sometimes it happened up to three or four times a day. Kurt had basically come to expect it, and he wasn't even relieved if a day went by where it didn't happen, because he knew Karofsky would just make up for lost time the next day. Kurt's shoulders were almost constantly sore, so much so that he sometimes had trouble even carrying his bag around. It was a struggle not to flinch in pain whenever Carson unwittingly touched his shoulder after a fresh bruise had sprung up, but he somehow managed. He didn't need Carson finding out about the bullying.

Karofsky never did anything when Carson was around to see, strangely enough, and Kurt was at least grateful for that much. He knew perfectly well how Carson would react if he knew what was happening. He had punched Finn in the face for just saying something offensive. If he knew that Kurt was being physically hurt, he would want to kill Karofsky, or at least try to kick his ass, and he would have absolutely no fear despite the fact that Karofsky was twice his size. The last thing Kurt wanted was for Carson to end up getting hurt trying to defend him.

Today Kurt had decided he would follow Puck's advice and go spy on the Warblers. If nothing else, it would be a day where he wouldn't have to worry about getting slammed into a wall of lockers and his shoulders and back would get a much-needed rest. And if he happened to find out anything about what the Warblers planned to do for sectionals, then that would be a bonus. He just didn't want Carson to know what he was up to, because his twin wouldn't want him to go alone, and two of them together would be much more conspicuous than just Kurt by himself. So, after homeroom ended and he and Carson had split up to go to their respective first period classes, Kurt had taken a detour once Carson was out of sight and exited the building, heading toward their car in the student parking lot. With any luck, he could make it back before Carson even discovered he was gone.

He entered the school's address into the car's navigation system and carefully followed the directions until he came to an overwhelmingly huge building that looked like it may once have been a castle or something. He actually whistled in awe when he saw it.

"Fancy school," he whispered to himself, looking down and checking his outfit. He had chosen it specifically because it looked close enough to the uniforms that Dalton students wore and he hoped he wouldn't be noticed too much. Now he wasn't so sure, but oh well. There was nothing he could do about it now. He stepped out of the car and found the school's main entrance, which was at the top of a huge flight of stone steps outside. He wondered if there was a second entrance that the students used on a daily basis, because surely they didn't have to climb all those stairs every day.

_At least I'm getting exercise_, he thought to himself as he gingerly opened the heavy door and stepped inside. He found himself in an entryway with a long hallway to either side of him and a fancy, ornate staircase in front of him that led down to…somewhere. A crowd of students were filing out of both hallways, all of them hurrying down the staircase, and none of them seeming to notice Kurt. Kurt decided that he should probably follow the crowd to wherever they were going. Wherever it was, they were certainly excited about it, and Kurt's curiosity was piqued. He headed down the staircase, taking off his sunglasses and pocketing them.

"Excuse me," he said to a short, dark-haired boy on the stairs in front of him. The boy turned to look at him and Kurt was taken by surprise for a moment at how cute he was. Not even cute, actually. He was gorgeous.

"Um, hi," he continued, suddenly very self-conscious. "Can I ask you a question? I…I'm new here." He wasn't sure if the gorgeous boy would believe that story, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

Gorgeous Boy considered him for a second before sticking his hand out in an invitation for Kurt to shake it. "My name's Blaine," he said. Even his _voice_ was gorgeous.

"Kurt," Kurt replied, shaking Gorgeous Boy-Blaine's- hand and mentally cheering that he was able to even remember his own name with Blaine's honey-colored eyes fixed on his own. "So, what exactly is going on?" he asked, gazing around at the crowd of students who were still spilling down the stairs.

"The Warblers," Blaine replied, flashing Kurt a bright smile that showed off a row of perfectly white teeth. "Every now and then, they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for a while."

Kurt let Blaine's words sink in for a second. All those excited students were headed for a glee club performance? And none of them were carrying slushies? That was, needless to say, a foreign concept to him.

"So, wait, the glee club here is kind of cool?" he asked.

"The Warblers are like rock stars!" Blaine answered him, his smile never wavering even once. Kurt wasn't sure how to reply to that, but he didn't really have the time to come up with a reply anyway, because all of a sudden Blaine was grabbing his hand and Kurt was having a hard time concentrating on words.

"Come on," said Blaine. "I know a shortcut."

* * *

Carson was worried. He hadn't seen Kurt since homeroom that morning, and even though it wasn't unusual for them to not see each other all day due to their different class schedules, they still met up with each other for their shared lunch period every day. Kurt hadn't shown up for lunch today, though, and he hadn't responded to any of Carson's texts or picked up his phone when Carson tried to call. That wasn't like him.

_Maybe he's just busy_, he thought, trying to push the worry from his mind. _It could be anything. He could have stayed behind after his last class, or been held up talking to somebody. I'm sure he's fine. You worry too much, Carson. That's what Kurt would say….that you worry too much. That's what he would say if he were here. Which he isn't. I wish he'd at least text me back and let me know he's alright._

He worried about Kurt the entire rest of the afternoon as he sat through his classes, texting Kurt periodically when nobody was looking.

**_Kurt, where are you? –C_**

**_Seriously, Kurt, I haven't heard from you all day. You know how I worry. –C_**

**_Kurt, please at least let me know you're alive? –C_**

**_Text me something. Anything. Even if it's to yell at me to stop blowing up your phone with so many texts. Please. –C_**

Still Kurt didn't respond, and Carson grew even more worried. He thought about Kurt's recent slew of nightmares as he sat in the journalism classroom during his study period, trying to push away the nagging thought that maybe they (or rather, the cause of them) had something to do with Kurt's mysterious disappearance.

_No, Carson, come on. You're being stupid. You're worrying for nothing. He's just had a busy day today, that's all. Happens to all of us. He'll show up for that travesty of a glee club later and all will be right with the world._

"Is this the room for the Writers' Club?" a sudden voice asked, causing Carson to yelp and almost jump out of his chair. He had been so wrapped up in worrying about Kurt, he hadn't even realized that a girl had entered the classroom and was staring at him thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!" exclaimed Carson.

"Sorry about that," said the girl. "Sometimes I have that effect on people. I'm too quiet. I'm trying to work on that."

Carson peered at her over the rim of his glasses. She looked extremely familiar, and Carson realized that he'd seen her around school sometimes, constantly holding the handheld video camera she was holding now and silently filming the most random things.

"Yeah," he answered her slowly. "Yeah, this is the room, but there's….I mean, this isn't a meeting. Actually, there's hardly ever any meetings, because I'm sort of the only member right now. Did…were you interested in joining?" he asked her. This was noteworthy indeed. Usually nobody seemed to give a shit about writing at this school. Carson had all but given up holding regular meetings since the other members had graduated and he was often the only person in the room anyway.

She nodded enthusiastically, making the tight blonde ponytail perched atop her head bounce. "Yes. Yes, I would. See, I write sometimes."

"Really?" Carson sat up straighter in his chair and looked at her with interest. "That's great. What do you write?"

"Short stories?" she said, as if it were a question. "I can show you one of them at the next meeting, if you want."

"That'd be great..um…sorry, what's your name?" Carson asked.

"Malerie," the girl replied, shifting her video camera to her other hand as she spoke.

"Ok, that'd be great, Malerie," said Carson, eyeing the camera warily. "Is that thing on?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said, aiming it at his face and offering no further explanation.

"Um…ok," he said. _Weird, but whatever. _He took out his phone to see if Kurt had texted him back yet. He hadn't. "So, I guess if you want to join, the meetings are twice a week after school," he informed Malerie. "I'll post the times on the door."

"Okay," she agreed, holding out one hand in a wave. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_," he replied, dialing Kurt's number and pressing the phone to his ear as Malerie sauntered out of the room. _Damn it, Kurt, pick up. I'm really starting to wonder what's happened to you_.

There was still no answer. Carson sighed and glanced at the clock. School was almost over and Kurt had been gone all day. _Kurt, WHERE ARE YOU? This isn't funny. You can't do this to me. You KNOW that I worry._

When the last bell of the day finally rang, Carson practically raced to the choir room, the first time in his entire life he had ever been in a hurry for a glee meeting. He poked his head inside the room and glanced around. Everybody seemed to be there already, talking about whatever stupid shit they always talked about. There were only two people who seemed to be missing. Mr. Schue was no shock, since he was always late for glee, but Carson also noticed, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that Kurt wasn't there either.

Ok, something was definitely up. It wasn't like Kurt at all to skip a glee meeting unless he had a very good reason. Combined with the fact that he hadn't answered his phone all day, Carson's worry quickly started rising into full-blown panic as he turned around and started aimlessly wandering the school hallways, not sure what to do. Where WAS he? What if something had happened to him?_Fuck, WHY wasn't I more worried when he didn't show up for lunch? What's wrong with me? I'm the worst fucking brother ever. What if he's been kidnapped? Or murdered? What if he's lying in a ditch somewhere, and I've just been going about my stupid school day thinking he'd show up for glee and be fine? Oh god…what if he really HAS been being bullied by someone and they cornered him somewhere this morning when he was alone, and-_

The ringing of his phone startled him out of his thoughts of all the horrible things that could have happened to Kurt, and he fumbled with the lock screen in his hurry to answer it when he saw the caller ID screen, almost dropping it in the process.

"Kurt?" he said breathlessly.

"Hi, Carson," came Kurt's voice from the other end of the line, and Carson was so very relieved to hear it that he almost forgot how to speak for a minute. Then he remembered that he'd spent his entire day worrying for Kurt's safety and quickly regained his tongue.

"Where the fuck _were_ you all day?" he exclaimed. "I've been texting and calling you since lunch! You never showed up, and you don't even want to know how many horrible things I imagined might have happened to you! I thought you were lying beaten in a field somewhere. Or dead and dismembered in someone's basement dungeon! I was about to call the police and organize a search party, Kurt!"

"I'm sorry," Kurt said. "I, um…I actually spent the day at Dalton Academy. You know…gathering information on the competition and…and stuff. I stayed a little longer than I meant to. And I had my phone on silent and I guess I forgot to turn it back on. Otherwise I would have answered your texts. All seventeen thousand of them. I actually was nervous to call you back because I knew you had to be worried. At least I know you care," he said teasingly.

"You went WHERE?" asked Carson, ignoring the tease. "By yourself? But Kurt, that place is creepy! And they're competition! You're damn right I was worried! What if they'd done something to you for spying? Did anyone notice you?"

"Oh, um…well…yeah, kind of, but it's cool. He…they didn't care," replied Kurt. "I'm still alive. Actually, we had a rather pleasant chat in their cafeteria. They're really nice people, you know."

"Well, as lovely as that sounds, that still doesn't change the fact that I had no idea where you were and was worried that you were dead," grumbled Carson. "It scared me, that's all."

"Aaaaw, Carsey, I'm sorry," said Kurt. "I'm on my way home now, ok?"

"I'm walking home now," Carson replied. "And I'm going to be a very worried mess of a person until I see you walk through the door. Just so you know."

Kurt laughed. "Noted. I'll see you in a bit."

Carson got home and promptly planted himself on the living room couch, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the couch's arm and keeping his eyes trained on the front door. Even though he now knew that Kurt was fine, he wasn't going to actually feel better until he saw his face. Not after all the things that had run through his mind earlier.

When the front door finally opened and Kurt stepped inside, Carson was up immediately, crossing over to him and throwing his arms around his neck as Kurt slowly brought his hands around Carson's waist, hugging him back. They stood there like that for a minute; with Carson just reassuring himself that Kurt was, indeed, still in one piece.

"Missed me, did you?" Kurt said.

"Just making sure you're real and you're alive," said Carson, finally parting from the hug and looking him in the eye. "Don't ever scare me like that again. At least text me where you are so I don't spend the day worrying."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry," said Kurt, patting Carson gently on the cheek and carrying his bag over to the kitchen table, where he took a seat.

"So, did you find out anything about the Twizzlers, or whatever the team is called?" Carson asked, sitting down at the table next to him.

"The _Warblers_, and yeah, I did," replied Kurt. "I saw them perform. They sang "Teenage Dream," and they were actually pretty good for an acapella group. I still think we could probably beat them, though."

"Uh-huh. And you said they knew you were a spy and they didn't care?" Carson pressed.

"Oh..yeah. I happened to run into the lead singer of the Warblers. Blaine. Blaine Anderson," Kurt said, his voice lilting ever so slightly and his back straightening at the mention of the other boy's name. "He's really nice. We talked for a while…almost all day, actually. And I didn't even realize that my phone was still silent."

"Oh?" said Carson, having picked up on the subtle change in Kurt's demeanor when he mentioned the other guy. "Talked about what?"

"Oh, you know…school and…and stuff," said Kurt, getting up and grabbing his bag. "He's gay too, so we had a lot of experiences and things to talk about. Hey, I'm gonna go drop this off downstairs," he said, indicating the bag in his hand.

"Kay," Carson replied, not sure whether or not he liked what he had just heard.

He was positive that he didn't like it when he caught a glimpse of the inside of Kurt's locker the next afternoon. Carson had stopped to let Kurt know he was planning to skip glee that day in order to hold a meeting of the Writers' Club instead, but he was stopped dead in his tracks at Kurt's newest decorative addition.

"What. The fuck. Is that?" he asked, nodding at the framed photograph of a dark haired boy wearing what Carson recognized to be the uniform for Dalton Academy. Kurt had hung it right in the center of his locker door, right above a collage of cut-out magazine letters spelling out the word "Courage."

Kurt looked sheepish, looking quickly from Carson to the photo and back again. "Oh, that. Um…remember that guy I told you about? Blaine. The one I talked to yesterday at Dalton?"

"I remember," said Carson, arms crossed. "Is that him? Please, do tell me how you came to have a framed photograph of him in your locker."

"Well, he, uh…" Kurt stammered, blushing. "He kind of gave it to me before I left yesterday."

"I see," said Carson, glaring at the photo. "So, you just met this guy yesterday, and after such a fun afternoon of talking and whatnot, he just handed you a framed photograph of himself just like that? To hang in your locker?"

"Basically," said Kurt, shoving a book into his locker. "I mean, it didn't come framed, and I guess it wasn't specifically for my locker, but…"

"He just happened to be carrying it around, right? I mean, I'm trying to picture how this even happens, and I am drawing a complete blank," said Carson. "Does he just carry around stacks of photos of himself like some kind of celebrity and hand them out to his adoring fans, or…what's the deal there?"

"Well…not exactly," said Kurt, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Not exactly? What do you mean, not exactly?" asked Carson.

"Well, he sort of invited me up to his room, and-"

"His _room_? He invited you into his _room_? And you _went_?" Carson exclaimed. Kurt clapped one hand over Carson's mouth to shush him and looked around, embarrassed.

"Shhh, Carson, for god's sake, keep your voice down," Kurt hissed. "It wasn't like that. It was fine."

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I just tend to get very worried when I find out my precious baby brother was alone with some strange guy in said guy's room yesterday, and my overprotective instincts just kind of kick in," said Carson in a lower voice. "It might NOT have been fine! He _did_ keep his hands to himself, right?"

"God, Carson, YES," said Kurt in an exasperated tone. "It was completely innocent. We went to his room and talked a little bit more, and then he handed me the photo. Then we exchanged numbers and I left. End of story."

"You exchanged numbers, too," mumbled Carson. "Great." He glanced again at the photo of the guy- Billy, or whatever his name was- and narrowed his eyes at it. Everything about the guy in the photo now irritated the everloving fuck out of him, from his immaculately gelled hair to his caterpillar-like eyebrows to the douchy little smirk on his face. He didn't even have to ask to know that Kurt had a crush on this guy. The picture in the locker kind of gave that away, not to mention the bashful blush spreading across Kurt's face as he talked about him.

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuck_, thought Carson. _It was bad enough dealing with Finn. Finn wasn't even gay. At least this one doesn't live in town, but STILL_.

Kurt closed the locker carefully (_Wouldn't want to break precious Bobby's picture, would we? Oh heavens no_) and offered his arm to Carson. "Shall we head to the choir room?" he asked, clearly trying to change the subject. "The girls are performing their mashup today."

Carson gave him his best attempt at a smile. "As tempting as that sounds, I'm actually going to be in the journalism room instead today. I think I might have a potential new member for the Writers' Club."

"Oh, ok," said Kurt, sounding slightly disappointed. "I'll meet you in there afterwards, then."

"Ok," agreed Carson. Kurt patted him on the cheek and headed down the hall toward the choir room, and Carson headed in the direction of the journalism classroom, determined not to worry about Billy Sanderson (that was his name, right?). He didn't even go to the same school. Kurt's crush would likely stay just that. A crush from afar. Way, way afar.

* * *

_It's probably a good thing Carson skipped this_, thought Kurt as he watched the girls perform their mashup of "Start Me Up" and "Livin' On A Prayer." _He'd probably throw up right in his seat if he could see the pants Rachel is wearing. Maybe I'll take a picture and show him. Nah, that'd be cruel of me_. He felt a buzzing in his pocket and retrieved his phone, reading the one-word text message that popped up on the screen underneath Blaine's name.

**_Courage_**

Kurt smiled as he looked at the word, remembering his long conversation with Blaine yesterday in the Dalton cafeteria. He wasn't sure what had made him pour his heart out to some guy he'd just met, but Blaine had seemed like he understood what Kurt was going through with the bullying. Not to mention that he was really gorgeous, and Kurt would be lying if he said he wasn't quickly developing a crush on him (which relieved him greatly, because it meant that he wasn't focusing on his feelings for Carson).

And it had felt good to talk to _someone_ about what he was going through and get it off his chest. He couldn't talk to Carson about it, for obvious reasons. Carson would want to protect him and he would end up confronting Karofsky with violence and getting himself hurt. Kurt couldn't let him do that. He couldn't let Carson put himself in danger that way. Blaine was at least someone who had no personal stake in the situation and could give him some advice, which he had. His advice had been to confront Karofsky with words, which Kurt wasn't entirely sure would work. Honestly, he was a little terrified to even try. But Blaine had seemed to think it would work, and Kurt kind of really wanted to trust him, since he had nowhere else to turn for advice at the moment.

_That's where the courage comes in, I guess. The worst that can happen is that he'll slam me into some more lockers and I'll just get an extra bruise or two to add to my collection_, he thought, pocketing his phone for the rest of the girls' performance. He pulled it out again when glee club let out, gazing down at the one simple word, a smile forming across his face. Courage. He could do that. He could. He was just as courageous as anyone, damn it. He could solve his own problems. He could-

His thoughts were cut short as a hand came out of nowhere and yanked his phone out his hands before sending Kurt himself flying across the hall, landing hard against a row of lockers. The lock on one of them dug into his back, right under his neck, causing a sharp jolt of pain where there was already a bruise from the last time this had happened. He took a minute to catch his breath and collect his thoughts as Karofsky smirked at him and started down the hallway. As though shoving him was just a normal part of his afternoon routine (which, Kurt thought, it kind of was, by now).

_Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt…._

_Confront him…._

_Courage…_

With Blaine's words echoing in his head, Kurt took a deep breath, steeled himself up, and mustered all the strength and courage he could find within himself.

"HEY!" he shouted, running down the hall after Karofsky.

* * *

Carson sat at a desk in the journalism classroom across from Malerie, wondering how exactly to proceed with a Writers' Club meeting when there were only two members. He'd never actually encountered anyone in the school who was relatively enthusiastic about writing before, besides himself and Jacob Ben Israel, who didn't count because all he wrote was tabloid fodder. Malerie at least looked like she wanted to be there, unlike most of the people whom Carson had ever seen enter the classroom.

"So, Malerie," he said, folding his hands in front of him and looking at her curiously. She still had her video camera with her, which was sitting in front of her at her desk, the red light indicating it was filming. He kind of wondered what the deal was with that camera, but he thought maybe it was better not to ask for now. "You write short stories?"

"Yes," she said, pulling out a small, yellow notebook from her book bag and smiling proudly as she opened it to a page full of neat handwriting. "I wrote this one last night. Would you like to hear it?"

"Please," Carson replied, sitting up with interest as Malerie cleared her throat and began to read from the notebook.

"Marley was dead to begin with," she read, pronouncing each word slowly and carefully. "There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it…"

"Malerie," Carson interrupted her. She stopped reading and looked at him over the rim of her thick glasses.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You…um…you didn't write that," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and trying not to let his irritation show.

"Yeah, but look, though," she said, turning the notebook so that Carson could see the page. "I did write it."

"Well, yeah, you wrote it, but you didn't _write_ it," said Carson as patiently as he could, wondering if she wasn't just screwing with him. "I mean, that…that's not your story, that's Charles Dickens' story. You just copied it."

Malerie hung her head and closed the notebook. "You got me," she said sadly. "I just wanted to write a good story, but I guess I'm not there yet."

Carson was about to answer her when he felt a weird, sudden jolt of something in his stomach out of nowhere. Almost like an intense fear, actually, though he couldn't imagine where the fuck it had come from. It felt like he was trapped somewhere and couldn't get away. And he knew, somehow, that it had something to do with Kurt. That Kurt was in some kind of trouble and needed him.

"I have to go," he said quietly, gathering up his bag and practically running out of the classroom.

_Kurt, where are you? I'm here, I'm coming, just hang on_.

* * *

Kurt sat slumped against the wall of lockers in the empty locker room for what seemed like hours, even though it was probably more like three minutes. He was still trying to process everything that had just happened in a span of a few seconds.

Karofsky was gay. He was gay and he had just kissed Kurt. That had happened. Kurt had just had his first kiss from the very same person who had made his life a living hell for so long. Or, more precisely, he had just had his first kiss stolen from him. He hadn't wanted to be kissed by the other boy. He'd had no control over it. He'd been ambushed before he was ready to react. One minute he was confronting him, daring him to hit him and get it over with (and thinking _oh god, what will Carson do when he sees the black eye, he'll want to kill him….he might ACTUALLY kill him_), and the next minute there were rough, chapped lips attacking his, and it was so terrifying, and Kurt just wanted to get away, but he couldn't. And all he wanted right then was Carson. For Carson to come in and pull Karofsky off of him and hold Kurt like always, and stroke his hair and tell him everything was going to be ok.

And then it was over and Karofsky was gone, and Kurt was left alone to slump to the floor in a shaky heap, brushing his lip softly with one finger. He'd never felt more alone in his entire life. He wanted to go find his phone where it had clattered to the ground when Karofsky had slammed him into the lockers. He wanted to find it and call Carson and beg him to stay on the line with him until they could meet up somewhere. The journalism classroom. The choir room. Outside. Anywhere.

No, though. He couldn't do that. He couldn't let Carson see him like this, shaking and crying and scared. Carson would want to know what had happened, and if he found out what Karofsky had just done…..Kurt didn't even want to think about what he would do. He would probably track Karofsky down and punch him, with no regard for the fact that Karofsky could easily kill him if he wanted to. No, Kurt couldn't let that happen. He'd never be able to live with himself if something happened to Carson because of him.

But he needed to talk to _someone_. He would never be able to face Carson like this. He needed someone to reassure him, and if it couldn't be Carson, then…

Kurt pulled himself up off the floor and dusted off his clothes, taking a long, shuddering breath. He peeked out of the locker room door and into the hall, which was mostly empty by now. He quickly scurried over to where his phone had landed, picked it up, and shut himself back in the locker room. He scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he was looking for and pressed it, holding the phone to his ear with a shaking hand. His call was answered on the second ring.

"Blaine? It…it's Kurt."

* * *

Carson raced through the almost empty halls, desperately searching for Kurt. He had no idea what was going on, but he _knew_ that Kurt needed him, and he had to find him as soon as possible. He hadn't liked the way he felt in the journalism classroom. He'd felt trapped and scared, and it had to be that twin telepathy thing that happened between him and Kurt sometimes. Like when they were little and Carson was the one who cried the loudest when Kurt got his shots, because he could feel his twin's pain, even though the needle wasn't touching him personally.

"Kurt?" he called out, hoping Kurt would answer him. That he _could_ answer him. "Kurt?"

He checked the choir room, just in case, and found it empty. Everyone had left. Carson sighed and wandered back down the hallway he'd just come from.

"Kurt?" he called out again, digging his phone out of his pocket to call him.

"Carson?"

Carson turned around to find Kurt standing behind him, looking at him curiously. Carson rushed over and threw his arms around him, hugging him tight.

"Kurt, are you alright? I couldn't find you, and I was worried about you," he said as Kurt patted him on the back briefly and slowly pried himself away from the hug with a slight wince.

"You..you were crushing me," he explained, giving Carson a small smile. "I'm fine. I was just on my way to meet you in the journalism classroom. You should have _seen_ Rachel's pants today, oh my god, you would have barfed-"

"Kurt," Carson interrupted him. "Wait. You…you're ok? You're sure?"

"Fine," Kurt insisted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Why?"

"I…" Carson looked at him and frowned. "I thought….I mean, I felt like you….like you needed me. Like you were scared. You're sure you're alright?"

He thought he saw something unreadable flit across Kurt's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, and Kurt was nodding. "I guarantee you I'm alive and in one piece, Carson. You worry way too much," he said, a little too brightly. "I'm one hundred percent fine. Come on, let's get out of here."

Carson wanted to believe him, he really did, but he knew deep down that this wasn't true at all.

* * *

"Ok, Carson, Blaine will be outside in like five minutes, so I'm leaving," said Kurt as he made final adjustments to his outfit in the mirror. "The play lasts two and a half hours, and I'm sure there'll be traffic, so if I'm not home by midnight, _please_ don't panic and assume that I've been kidnapped by the crazy family from _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_, ok?"

"Not funny," Carson replied, crossing his arms and frowning. "The last time you hung out with him, I swear, I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach all night. I just couldn't stop picturing him luring you to some abandoned house and offering you up as some kind of human sacrifice to the Dalton gods, or whatever. Or trying to put his oh-so-dapper schoolboy hands where they don't belong."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, I swear, I don't know where you come up with half of this stuff," he said. "First of all, Blaine and I are just friends right now. Nobody's hands were going anywhere. And I'll point out that, just like _always_, I got home perfectly intact."

_What does he mean they're only friends "right now?" I don't like this. I don't like this at all._

"Well what if that was just a trial run and this time he's planning on doing something sinister?" Carson asked. "You barely know him. I don't know him at all. He's a complete stranger, in fact. And I don't feel comfortable with you getting into cars with strangers, heading to who-knows-where…"

"Carson, we're going to see a play one town over. We'll be in the middle of a crowded theater all night. If he was some insane psycho killer, he'd take us somewhere much more isolated," Kurt replied, giving his hair one final pat. He turned around to face Carson and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Would it make you feel better if you came with us the next time we hung out? That way you could meet him and get to know him a little bit and hopefully not be so quick to assume he's a violent rapist."

"Don't even joke about that," said Carson.

Kurt laughed and walked over to Carson cupping his face in his hands and planting a big kiss on Carson's forehead. "Breadstix on Wednesday night, ok? For me?"

"I don't wanna," Carson protested.

"Pleeeeeeease, Carsey?" Kurt asked, his bottom lip slowly protruding out on its way to making his signature pout. "Don't make me use the pout. I'll do it, I swear I will."

Carson sighed. "Fine, Kurt. If it's so important to you that I spend time with you and this Billy-"

"Blaine," Kurt corrected him.

"Whatever….then I'll go. I won't like it, but I'll do it. For you."

Kurt smiled and kissed Carson's forehead one last time, patting him on the cheek. "Thanks, Carsey. I'm leaving now. Don't wait up."

"You know I _will_, why do you even say that?" Carson replied. "I won't be able to rest until I see that you made it home alive with all your body parts intact."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'll see you later, Carson," he said, giving him a little wave before heading up the stairs. Carson sighed when he heard the front door open and close. He gathered up his laptop and his notepad and headed up to the living room, determined to watch the front door like a hawk all night until Kurt got home safe and sound. He had no reason to trust this Dalton guy, especially since he had invited Kurt up to his fucking room the first day they met.

_You'd better hope that Kurtsie gets home alright prep boy_, he thought as he settled himself on the couch. _If he doesn't, I will break everything you love._

Carson must have been much more tired than he realized, because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by gentle hands on his shoulder.

"Carson…Carsey….wake up," Kurt's voice whispered. Carson opened his eyes and looked into Kurt's face, which was smiling down at him.

"W'time is it?" he asked, yawning.

"A little past midnight. I wouldn't have woken you up, but I knew if I didn't you would say you were worried that I was swimming in a pool of my own blood or something," replied Kurt, sitting down on the part of the couch Carson wasn't curled up on. He patted his lap in invitation, and Carson maneuvered so that he could rest his head on it. "And I really do hate making you worry," he said, stroking his fingers through Carson's hair. Carson snuggled into the soft touch of Kurt's fingers on his scalp and sighed.

"Did you have a good time at the play?" he asked.

"A blast," Kurt replied. "Missed you, though," he said with a tap of his finger against the tip of Carson's nose. "You'll still come with me and Blaine to Breadstix, won't you? I really want you to meet him."

"I said I would," said Carson. He blinked up at Kurt . "It's important to you, isn't it?"

Kurt nodded. Carson buried his face against Kurt's stomach and sighed, trying to ignore the heavy, leaden feeling in his own stomach.

* * *

"I don't care what anyone says," said Carson as he sat up in bed with his laptop open, his fingers flying over the keys. "I like Ms. Holiday. I like her much better than Mr. Schue. I mean, yeah, sure, we're still not even close to being prepared for sectionals, but at least she's fun and we don't have to spend every meeting singing that boring '80s pop."

"I think the only person who would argue with you is Rachel," Kurt pointed out as he rubbed various skin creams onto his face in front of his vanity mirror. "And I don't know why she's so uptight, either."

"I loved how Trollberry was suddenly all about wanting to crack down on sectionals prep," said Carson, rolling his eyes at the memory. "When Schuester is spending week after week handing out bullshit assignments, Rachel is all for it, but as soon as a new teacher does the same thing, she bitches. I think she's just scared that Ms. Holiday isn't going to go for her attention whoring crap like Mr. Schue does."

"Probably," Kurt said absentmindedly, capping his skin creams and getting up from his seat. "You can go ahead and thank me, because, if you recall, it was MY idea to bring Ms. Holiday in to sub the glee club."

"Yes, yes, you're brilliant," said Carson, closing his laptop as Kurt climbed carefully into bed, settling on his usual side facing away from Carson and letting out a slow breath. Carson turned the light out and wrapped his arms around Kurt like he always did, one hand gently gripping his shoulder as he leaned his face down to give him a kiss.

"OW!" Kurt whimpered, jolting away from Carson's hand on his shoulder. Carson sat up, alarmed.

"Are you ok? What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" he asked, rubbing his hand gently in circles on Kurt's back.

"Yes…I mean, no….yeah, I'm…I'm fine. I'm just sore from…from carrying so many books in my bag today," Kurt said. "Did a real number on my shoulder. Just….just don't touch there right now, ok?"

"Ok," said Carson, "But are you sure you're ok? Do you want me to look at it?"

"NO!" Kurt said quickly. "I mean…just….no, thanks, it'll be fine. You don't have to look. I'm fine. Really." He settled down against his pillows and patted Carson on the hand. "Let's go to sleep, ok? Please?"

Carson's suspicions were immediately raised, but he nodded, settling himself gently back against Kurt and being careful not to touch his sore shoulder. "Yeah…ok. Goodnight, Kurtsie," he said, carefully leaning down and kissing the tip of Kurt's ear. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Kurt. Carson waited patiently for him to drift off to sleep, thinking about what had just happened. This wasn't the first time Kurt had obviously been feeling pain in his shoulders. Kurt may not have realized it, but he almost constantly looked like he was in pain now, and had taken to changing into his pajamas in the bathroom for the past month or so, something which he'd never went out of his way to do before. Clearly, there was something he was trying to hide, and Carson grew more and more sure each day that someone was hurting him when Carson wasn't around to see. He was so sure, but he couldn't prove it. Kurt acted like nothing was wrong, and Carson never actually saw anyone do anything, but he was almost positive it was happening. It was the only thing that made sense. Hearing Kurt cry out in pain tonight was the last straw. Carson had to know.

He waited for almost an hour, until he could hear Kurt's breathing become deep and even, indicating he was fast asleep. He slowly scooted himself back away from Kurt and turned on his bedside lamp to its lowest setting before gently brushing his hand across Kurt's back. He briefly wondered if he was ready to see what he thought he might see, and then he remembered Kurt's whimper of pain.

Yes. He was ready to know.

Carefully, gently so as not to wake Kurt, Carson hooked his fingers into the hem of Kurt's pajama top and slowly began lifting it up, exposing more and more of Kurt's bare skin until almost his entire back was exposed. What Carson saw nearly made him scream out loud in horror, because his worst fear had just been confirmed before his very eyes.

Kurt's back was _covered _in bruises. They were everywhere, marring the perfect pale skin with spots of ugly, painful-looking black and purple marks. Some of them were clearly old and fading, but others, especially the ones on his shoulders, looked fresh, as though Kurt had just received them within the past day. Carson was amazed Kurt had even been able to hide the excruciating pain the angriest bruises must be causing him.

Someone had hurt him. Someone had hurt and was _still _hurting Kurt, his sweet baby brother, his twin, his other half, the _love of his life_, whom he loved more than anything in the world and had promised to always take care of. And Carson had been unable to stop it from happening. He felt like crying as he ghosted his fingers over the constellation of bruises, not daring to actually touch them. He didn't want to cause Kurt any more pain if he could help it. He felt a nagging guilt in his stomach as he thought about all the times he had put his arm around Kurt's shoulder or nonchalantly touched his back, not realizing that he was probably making the pain worse for him. He didn't realize he was crying until he felt the tears streaming down his face, and he was grateful that Kurt wasn't awake to see it. He made it a point never to cry in front of him.

_Oh, fuck, Kurt….why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me someone was hurting you? It's my job to protect you. I'm supposed to make the world safe for you. Who did this to you, Kurtsie? I need to know. I need to know exactly who thought they could put their filthy fucking hands on you, and then I need to make them regret the day they ever decided to even look your way. They won't get away with this, Kurtsie. They won't get away with hurting you. I won't let them. I promise you that._

He gently fixed Kurt's shirt and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just underneath his ear. Kurt sighed in his sleep and Carson wondered how much of a monster someone had to be to want to hurt such a beautiful, perfect, innocent creature.

_Fucking asshole_, he thought as he drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

He tried the next morning to ask Kurt who the fuck was daring to do that to him, but Kurt absolutely refused to talk.

"It's fine, Carson," he had insisted. "I'm fine. It's really not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Kurt, your back looks like you got hit by a truck. This is such a_huge_ fucking deal. I can't believe you weren't even going to tell me what was happening! They can't get away with doing this to you. You have to tell me who it is," Carson had replied.

Kurt had closed his eyes and sighed. He looked tired. "Carson, I can't tell you."

"Yes, you can! You have to! They have to pay! They have to suffer just as much as you have. They have to suffer MORE! Kurt, I love you so much, and it kills me that some fucking asshole is hurting you and getting away with it. Just…just, please, tell me who it is and I'll tell Ms. Sylvester and she can deal with it, ok? She's the principal now, she can expel them. We'll take a picture of your back so that we have evidence. Just PLEASE, Kurt. Tell me!" Carson was practically begging.

Kurt had just shook his head and Carson knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with Kurt yet. His twin could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be, but Carson was going to find out who the perpetrator was if it was the last thing he did. For now, he settled for never letting Kurt out of his sight at school that day unless it was absolutely necessary. He stuck by him every minute in the halls. He walked him to every class, and he told Malerie the Writers' Club meeting that day was cancelled so that he could be with Kurt before, during, and after glee. But nothing happened, and Carson had a feeling that the unknown asshole was around somewhere, watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And that scared the fuck out of Carson. He couldn't be with Kurt _every_ minute, no matter how much he tried.

_Kurt, you eventually HAVE to tell me. We can't do this forever. Eventually I'm not going to be there, and they'll hurt you again._

Carson's mood was not improved by the fact that this was the night he had told Kurt he would go with him and Blaine to Breadstix. He and Kurt arrived together and were escorted by the hostess to their booth, where the other boy was already waiting.

"Hi," he said, standing up and flashing a wide, toothy smile as he stuck his hand out for Carson to shake. "I'm Blaine Anderson. You must be Carson. Kurt's told me so much about you."

"Pleasure," Carson said in a monotone, shaking his hand for the briefest of seconds before dropping it like a hot potato and looking the boy up and down. His height was what Carson noticed right away. He was short, several inches shorter than Carson and Kurt, and Carson decided that "Hobbit" would be an accurate description if he were ever forced to give one. He was dressed in his Dalton uniform (_WHY? Doesn't he own regular clothes? He looks like a giant douche sitting here in a restaurant with his fancy little uniform on, fuck_). His dark hair was perfectly gelled down with not a stray hair out of place, and his eyebrows were even weirder looking in person than they were in Kurt's locker photo. They were triangular and so thick that Carson was seriously trying to decide if it was possible for a family of birds to be living in them. Combined with the uniform, he looked like he might have just stepped out of the pages of some vintage 1950s catalog.

"Shall we sit?" Blaine asked, sliding into one side of the booth, followed by Kurt, who eagerly slid in beside him. Carson successfully managed to repress the urge to roll his eyes as he slid by himself into the other side of the booth. Now he got to spend the night sitting across from Kurt and Prep Boy and watching Kurt be all flirty and giggly with him. Great. Just wonderful.

_Kill me_, he thought. _Tonight is going to be LONG._

He barely paid any attention to what Kurt and Blaine were talking about for most of the meal, because he was too busy wishing that Blaine would just disappear. Preferably into a black hole, never to be seen again. Everything about him just pissed Carson off, especially the way he cut and ate his food like he was at some fancy dinner party at the White House instead of a moderately priced Italian restaurant in the middle of Lima.

_Table manners are something Kurt would find appealing about him, though_, said a little voice in the back of Carson's mind. He wished it would kindly shut the fuck up.

"I'm just saying that drunk people who get married to someone they met an hour ago by an Elvis impersonator- I mean, that's a bigger insult to marriage than two gay guys getting hitched," Kurt was saying when Carson finally checked back into the conversation.

_Aaaaand he's talking about marriage. Awesome. Can I die now?_

"Totally," Blaine agreed. "It's like, if marriage is so sacred, they should just outlaw divorce."

"Right, right" Kurt said with a big grin in Blaine's direction. Carson felt a strong surge of jealousy sweep through him.

"What do you think, Carson?" Blaine asked, looking across the table at him.

_I think they should outlaw your face. _ "I think people should marry whoever the hell they want, and I also think that none of us at this table are old enough to be discussing marriage," Carson replied, his eyes fixed on Kurt for that last part. "I don't think people should get married at all until they're at least thirty-five. And they also shouldn't touch each other. At all. Ever. Or be alone in the same room together, unless they've known each other for at least a decade and a half."

"Um…oh," Blaine replied, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown, obviously not quite sure how to answer that. Kurt, knowing Carson and probably sensing that this would probably get ugly soon if he didn't do something, swiftly changed the subject.

"Let's play a game," he said, clasping his hands together in excitement. "Ok, on the count of three, name your favorite 2010 _Vogue_ cover."

_Seriously, Kurt? Seriously?_

"You ready?" Kurt said, smiling widely in Blaine's direction. "Ok, one….two…three…"

"Marion Cotillard!" he and Blaine exclaimed at the same time, dissolving into a chorus of giggles and "Oh my gods" at their excitement over having the same answer. Carson seriously wished someone would come and put him out of his own misery.

_Great. He likes fashion, too. Let's just keep adding to the list of things that Kurt probably finds oh-so-endearing about this hobbit. He sings, he likes fashion, he eats like he's the fucking Queen of England or something, he uses product in his hair, and god knows what else. I'm so fucked._

Carson knew for absolute certain that he didn't like Blaine Anderson. At all. He didn't like him, he didn't trust him, and he didn't like the flirty, blushing change that came over Kurt when he was with him. Especially not when he would give anything in the world for Kurt to look at _him_ like that.

* * *

Carson continued his new plan of sticking by Kurt as much as possible the next day. He figured if Kurt still refused to tell him who was responsible for the bruises, he could at least make sure that the opportunities for the asshole to strike would be severely limited. He knew it wouldn't be enough. He would eventually have to find out who it was. Kurt shouldn't have to go to school every day with that threat hanging over his head. It wasn't right or fair, not to mention it pissed Carson off severely.

_I have to do more to protect him. I have to. I….I love him_.

There was his second problem, as if Kurt being bullied weren't enough. Carson still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that he was a teenage boy in love with his own twin, and that said twin was now slipping through his fingers as he struck up a friendship with Dapper McGelmet from Fifties Sitcom Land. It positively killed Carson inside to watch Kurt getting so close with this new guy. It was worse even than when Kurt had a crush on Finn. Carson may not have liked that either, but at least he always had the safety net of knowing that Finn was straight and that Kurt's crush would never end up going any further.

Blaine was different. Blaine was gay, and that made him a much bigger threat to Carson than Finn ever was. If he should ever decide he liked Kurt back, then Carson was well and truly fucked. He knew Kurt well enough to know that Kurt would leap at the chance to be his boyfriend.

And then he mentally slapped himself because he was Kurt's _brother_ and he shouldn't be feeling like this toward him at all.

_Fuck my life. This is totally going to end up killing me, keeping all this shit bottled up inside._

He was still stewing over this as he sat across from Grandma that afternoon, going over his history notes as she sat knitting something. He had asked her what it was earlier, but she hadn't had an answer.

"You look sad," she said, putting her knitting needles down and breaking the silence in the room.

"I do?" he asked, lowering his notebook.

She nodded. "What's on your mind?"

Carson considered the question. What _wasn't_ on his mind? He couldn't very well pour his heart out to Grandma about what he was feeling.

Or could he?

He mulled over the possibility in his brain, weighing the pros and cons. On one hand, it would feel extremely weird to talk to his grandmother about being in love with his brother. On the other hand, he didn't have to say it was Kurt. And she likely wouldn't remember the conversation tomorrow. He could at least get some of this off his chest by talking to _someone_.

"I…I'minlove," he said in a rush, looking down at his shoes.

"What's that?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm in love," he tried again. "With…with someone I've known for a long time. Someone from…from glee club at school." _God, this is the weirdest fucking conversation I will probably ever have in my entire life._

A smile formed across Grandma's face. "Oh? That's wonderful!"

He smiled back. "Yeah, but the thing is that this person doesn't know, and I have no way of telling them without destroying our…our friendship. So I can't tell them, and now they've met someone else. And they aren't dating them, or anything. They're just friends. But still, the possibility is there, and I just can't deal with it. And that's why I look so sad."

Grandma looked at him carefully for a moment before speaking up. "You are in glee club with this person?"

Carson nodded. "Yes."

"Why don't you sing them a song?" she asked with a triumphant smile.

Carson let the words sink in. Singing? Him? He'd never actually sung in glee club before, unless it was in the background of competition numbers, and even then he tried to keep his voice as quiet as possible. He wasn't sure he could even sing a whole song without severely fucking it up.

Then again, they had Ms. Holiday leading them now. And she was always encouraging them to try new things. Maybe she had a point. Maybe he could try it. It never hurt to try things, right? And sure, Kurt couldn't know that the song was for him, but if Carson could at least sing it, maybe he would feel a little bit better.

"You know, that's not such a bad idea," he said, closing his notebook and shoving it in his messenger bag. "Thank you!"

Grandma looked confused. "For what, now?" she asked, returning to her knitting.

"Never mind," said Carson, shaking his head. "I…I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow!"

He left the room and hightailed it out to the parking lot, eager to get home and choose a song. He was going to sing his feelings for Kurt if it killed him.

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure what he was expecting when Carson suddenly got up from his seat in the middle of glee club and stood in front of the room. He was sure it was probably going to be something along the lines of airing all his grievances about the club, or he was going to tell everyone that they sucked or something. The last thing he expected was for his twin to announce that he was about to sing. But that was exactly what was happening.

"Um…ok, so apparently, this is the week where we branch out and try new shit," Carson began, looking out of his element standing up there in front of the piano. "And since I've never actually sung in here before, I thought maybe I'd try doing that." He handed Brad the sheet music that Kurt was only now noticing he was holding, and turned back around to face the club. "So, here goes."

Kurt was extremely confused as Brad began to play and Carson looked down at his shoes, looking nervous.

_When did he decide to do this? _Kurt thought as slightly familiar opening notes filled the room from the piano. _Why didn't he tell me? I could have helped him pick a song. Or we could have sung one together._ He watched as Carson took a deep breath and began to sing.

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now…"_**

It occurred to Kurt that he had never actually heard Carson sing properly before. His voice was actually really nice. It reminded Kurt of his own (obviously), but with a slightly lower tone to it that made it sound a little deeper than Kurt's. It was pretty sexy. He heard Rachel whispering "He's good" fearfully to Finn in the row below, and he smirked. So Carson was good and Rachel was worried. Oh that was just delicious. He couldn't wait to tell Carson when he was done.

Then he actually thought about what Carson was singing, and….ok, wait a minute. Kurt was definitely _not_ expecting this. "Iris" was such an odd song choice. Why was Carson singing it? He had a sudden flashback to every time he had ever woken up to hear Carson moaning and writhing in his sleep, saying things like "I love you" and "You're beautiful." Was it possible that Carson had been dreaming about someone at school? That he was pining away for someone, and he'd never even told Kurt about it?

**_"And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
And sooner or later it's over  
I just don't wanna miss you tonight…"_**

Kurt couldn't take his eyes off Carson as he sang. His face was displaying the oddest expression, like he was trying not to cry. Carson never cried. Ever. Kurt couldn't even remember the last time he had seen Carson cry. And now here he was, standing in front of the entire glee club, on the verge of tears (which he was doing a very good job of hiding, but _still_), and Kurt had a weird feeling in his stomach.

Who the _hell_ was Carson singing about?

**_"And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am…"_**

Kurt looked around the room, trying to figure out if maybe it was someone in the club. It had to be, right? Otherwise, why would Carson bother singing? Carson never did anything without a clear purpose. Of that, Kurt was certain.

_Let's see…god, I don't even know if it would be a guy or a girl. Well, obviously it isn't Rachel. So she's out. Quinn? Naw, he doesn't like her. It can't be Tina, I'm not even sure he knows she exists. It's not Brittany, he thinks she's an idiot. Well, she IS an idiot, but…Santana? Well…actually, maybe? I mean, I've seen them talking to each other before, and she's basically a female version of him. She's sarcastic and bitchy and…oh god, it makes sense. Whyyy? No, Carson, you CAN'T be in love with Santana. You just can't!_

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He could see how Carson would be attracted to Santana. He wouldn't find her nearly as annoying as anyone else in the club, and they'd have their mutual hatred of Rachel in common.

_God, PLEASE don't let it be Santana._

Carson was nearing the end of his song now, his eyes focused on Kurt (for moral support, Kurt assumed). Kurt gave him an encouraging smile, even though he felt like crying himself.

Or pulling Santana's hair. He felt like doing that, too.

**_"When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am."_**

Carson finished singing and looked shocked, as if he couldn't believe he'd made it through the whole song. Everyone tentatively clapped, and Carson and Kurt locked eyes before Carson suddenly turned around and walked quickly out of the room.

"That…that was good," spoke up Rachel. "Of course it lacked the emotional depth _I_ would have brought to it, but-"

"Oh, Rachel, shut the hell up," Kurt mumbled as he took his bag and ran out of the room after Carson. Everything about this was just weird. The out of the blue singing, the weirdly emotional song (_God, PLEASE DON'T LET IT BE ABOUT SANTANA_), everything. This definitely wasn't like Carson.

He found his twin around the corner, sitting slumped against a row of lockers. Kurt set his bag down and sat beside him, gently bumping their arms together.

"Um…that was unusual," he said. "And..really emotional. Are you ok? And when did you even find time to rehearse that?"

Carson looked at him and raised his eyebrows. "What? Everyone was trying new shit this week because Ms. Holiday was an actual good glee club leader, unlike Mr. Schue, and I thought I'd give it a try, too. You just didn't know I was rehearsing it because you were hanging out with Bobby all week, or whatever his name is. I'm fine. It's just a song."

Kurt didn't believe that for one second. There was something behind that song that Carson wasn't telling. He decided not to push the issue, though.

"You know," he said after a minute, "Your voice is actually pretty good. Very sexy."

He could swear he saw Carson's cheeks flush for a second. "Really?" Carson asked.

"Oh yeah, definitely. You and I should campaign for all the duets in glee from now on. We'd be unstoppable at sectionals."

Carson snorted. "As much as I'd love to sing every song with you, and as much as I'd love to see the look on Trollberry's face when she has her spotlight ripped out from underneath her, I don't think I want to make singing my regular thing."

Kurt nodded. "Understandable, actually. After all, there's only room for one gorgeous, talented Hummel in that glee club."

Carson narrowed his eyes at him. "Oh really? Is that a challenge?"

"Me? Challenge you, big brother? Never!" Kurt said, feigning shock and horror.

"Good, because I _really_ don't want to sing any more. I've tried it and now I never want to do it again," Carson mumbled, picking at a stray thread poking out of the knee of his jeans. "I just….it was just something I wanted to try. You know. Once." He looked like he was on the verge of tears again, which kind of scared Kurt.

"You know," he said, hoping to cheer Carson up just a little, "Rachel sounded awfully worried in there that you and I were going to steal her spotlight. She doesn't technically _have_ to know that you don't ever plan on singing again."

Carson laughed, bringing his hand up to stifle it, and Kurt smiled. He held his arms out to Carson, and his twin accepted the invitation, letting Kurt wrap him in a tight hug as his head rested against Kurt's chest. Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his hair, just like Carson always did to him.

"You really did sing that well, though," he said. Carson smiled.

"Thanks."

The bell rang then, indicating that it was time to get moving to their classes. Carson got up off the ground first and held his hand out to Kurt, helping him up and escorting him toward his next period geometry class.

"Crap," said Kurt halfway down the hall. "I don't have my book. I have to go to my locker."

"I'll go with you," said Carson.

"No, you won't, or you'll be late for class. I assure you, nothing is going to happen to me in the three minutes it will take to grab my Geometry book and walk back here," said Kurt. "So, go."

Carson looked skeptical.

"Go!" Kurt ordered. "Don't make me use the pout."

Carson rolled his eyes and patted the pocket where he kept his phone. "Call me if you need me."

"Oh my god, Carson, I'm going to get a book out of a locker, not crossing the Atlantic in a canoe," said Kurt. "I'll see you after class."

"Ok," Carson smiled, disappearing into his history classroom. Kurt shook his head and headed back down the hall toward his locker. He quickly grabbed his book and was just about to shut the locker door when there was a sharp grip on his sore shoulder.

"Question for you," came Karofsky's voice. Kurt froze. "You tell anyone else what happened? How you kissed me?"

Kurt turned around and glared at him. "_You_ kissed _me_, Karofsky. And I understand how hard this is for you, so no. I haven't told anyone."

"Good," answered Karofsky, getting up in Kurt's face and making him have unpleasant flashbacks to the last time they'd had this close an encounter. "You keep it that way. 'Cause if you do, I'm gonna kill you."

He walked away, leaving Kurt alone holding his book with shaking hands.

_Kill me. He just said he would kill me._

_Kill._

_He said he'd kill me._

His text ringer went off then. He fumbled for his phone and looked at the incoming text.

**_You make it to class alive? –C_**

Kurt closed his eyes and took several shaky breaths before he opened the text and started a reply.

**_You worry too much. -Kurtsie_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi, lovelies! I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. One of us is in the middle of moving, and there's not a lot of free time to sit and write when you're busy packing boxes and stuff. Also, there were not one, but TWO Chris sex riots to attend to. But anyways...**

**As usual, we have been LOVING the good reviews you've been leaving us on here, S&C, and Tumblr. We couldn't be happier that you guys ship Kurson as much as we do. So here's an extra long chapter for you, and hopefully the next one won't be quite so late. Let's read!**

There was once a time when the worst thing Carson could imagine happening was their father announcing that he and Carole Hudson had finally decided to get married. Last year, he probably would have been hard pressed to think of something that would be worse than having to share a house with Finn. Nowadays, however, the worst thing Carson could possibly conceive of happening would be for Kurt's bullying to get even worse (or for Kurt to start seriously dating that douchy Warbler), so that probably explained why he wasn't too seriously disturbed when Burt and Carole showed up in the halls of McKinley one day and announced to him, Kurt, and Finn that they were officially engaged. He wasn't exactly happy about it, of course, but he had bigger fish to fry and more important things to worry about at the moment than his family situation.

Like, for example, the fact that Kurt still flat-out refused to identify his attacker. Carson had taken to designating himself as something of a personal bodyguard for Kurt, sticking with him as often as he possibly could during the school day. But Carson couldn't be there with him every minute of every day, no matter how much he would have liked to, and he knew for a fact that Kurt was still being tortured as much as ever when he wasn't with him. Kurt was clearly trying to pretend that all was well, but Carson knew better. All it took was seeing the little wince of pain that crossed Kurt's face if something accidentally touched a fresh bruise. Or even observing the way he always looked like he was being led to the electric chair as he entered the school every morning and the relief on his face when he left every afternoon, as though happy just to have survived another day. Carson sometimes wished he could just scoop Kurt up and put him in his pocket all day, where he would be safe from harm. He felt so powerless, like he was failing Kurt and letting him down by not being able to help him, and he hated every second of it.

As if this wasn't enough, on top of all of that Kurt was spending more and more time with that damn Dalton guy. It drove Carson absolutely nuts for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that Carson didn't trust Blaine as far as he could throw him. Not to mention that seeing how obviously smitten with the guy Kurt was made Carson feel like drowning himself. And now that Kurt had taken it upon himself to plan every detail of Burt and Carole's wedding, Blaine was over at the house _a lot_ in order to "help Kurt" (or so he said). Much too often for Carson's liking. He'd had been taken quite by surprise the first time Kurt had invited Blaine over. Carson had come home from visiting Grandma on a Saturday afternoon to find Kurt and Blaine down in the twins' bedroom, sitting side by side on their bed giggling and looking through the stack of wedding magazines that Kurt usually kept hidden under his side of it.

"Ahem." Carson had cleared his throat to announce his presence, causing both boys to look up at him. Blaine had looked startled, Kurt slightly guilty.

"Carson!" he squeaked, his cheeks flushing red. "Um…you know Blaine," he said with a gesture of his hand toward the boy next to him.

"Hi," said Blaine, giving a little wave that made Carson want to just break his stupid hand off.

"Yeah," said Carson, looking Blaine up and down and deciding that he really must not own any regular clothes, because he was still wearing that Dalton uniform. He wondered if he ever took it off or washed it. "Tell me, Kurt, what's he doing in our bedroom when no one is home?"

Kurt's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of scarlet as he gave Carson a look that was clearly pleading with him to shut up. "I was just showing him my wedding magazines," he said through slightly gritted teeth.

"Really? That's nice. I think you could read them just as well upstairs in the kitchen, wouldn't you agree?" Carson asked brightly. "It's brighter up there, anyway. Better light for you to see. And nice, evenly spaced chairs that keep a respectable distance between everyone." Kurt shot him a look that could freeze hell, and Blaine had gotten up from the bed quickly, smoothing out his blazer and looking nervously from Carson to Kurt.

"You know, it's actually getting pretty late. I should probably be heading back to Dalton," said Blaine.

"That is an _excellent _idea," said Carson, his arms crossed casually in front of his chest. "We wouldn't want you to miss your curfew, Brandon."

"It's Blaine," Blaine corrected him, grabbing his bag off the bedroom sofa and slinging it over his shoulder.

"My apologies, Bobby," said Carson. "Shame you couldn't stay longer. A real shame. Maybe next time, hmm? Drive carefully, now."

Blaine gave him a nod. "Bye, Kurt," he said, flashing that too-white smile of his. "I had fun." _I swear to god he must fucking bleach those things on a daily basis. They're ridiculously _white, thought Carson._ And what does he mean he had fun? Yeah, I bet he had fun. Lots of fun trying to take advantage of Kurt._

"Bye, Blaine," answered Kurt, shooting Carson a look that plainly said "_Are you happy now?" _Blaine gave him a little wave and headed quickly back up the basement stairs, and Carson let out a small sigh of relief when he heard the front door open and close.

"Oh my god, Carson, you are so embarrassing!" exclaimed Kurt, getting up from the bed and huffily stacking all his magazines back up. "We were just looking at these! He was being a perfect gentleman, considering we're _just friends_, and everyone's hands were being kept to themselves. You didn't have to kick him out!"

"I didn't kick him out," Carson said calmly, crossing over to help Kurt stack the magazines. "He let himself out."

"You make him uncomfortable, you know," Kurt mumbled, yanking the rest of the stack out of Carson's hands and placing all the issues neatly back under his side of the bed.

"Good, because _he_ makes _me_ uncomfortable, what with his spending so much time alone with you with god knows what on his mind," said Carson. "I'm just doing my part to protect you."

Kurt had just raised his eyebrows at him. That was the first of many times that Carson had to deal with that overly gelled hobbit hanging out at their house after school and on weekends, but he supposed it was better than Kurt spending time with him in his dorm room at Dalton where Carson couldn't readily keep an eye on them. Still, though. He didn't approve of Kurt spending so much time with Blaine. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel just the slightest twinge of jealousy every time he saw them having fun together.

_He's not worth your time, Kurt. He just…..he just isn't._

Ok, so maybe it was more like a tidal wave of jealousy.

* * *

Ever since the day that Karofsky had threatened to kill him, Kurt had been pretty much in a constant state of panic and fear every time he entered the hallways of McKinley. He didn't know if Karofsky actually meant what he said, but he couldn't be certain that he didn't. To be honest, he could easily see Karofsky cornering him alone one day where no one would be able to help him and making good on his threat, and that absolutely terrified Kurt. He had hoped that bringing Blaine to school with him to confront Karofsky would have some effect; that at the very least, he would back off a little if he knew that someone else knew. Unfortunately, Kurt was now being harassed even more than before. Karofsky still never did anything when Carson was around, and Kurt was grateful for that, especially since Carson had seemingly made it his mission to escort him everywhere he went. But there were still plenty of times that Carson couldn't be with him, leaving Kurt alone and vulnerable and ensuring that he still had a constant supply of fresh bruises springing up daily on his back. Not to mention that he had a sinking feeling that Karofsky's reluctance to torture him in Carson's presence wouldn't last very much longer, and eventually Carson would end up bearing witness to one of his attacks on Kurt. And then what? Carson would go nuts wanting to protect him, and he would surely get hurt doing it.

Kurt spent much of his school time now wishing he could just become invisible so that he wouldn't have to worry about his or Carson's safety.

He was ecstatic when his father and Carole announced their engagement, because it meant that now he had something to throw himself into. A wedding took serious planning, and Kurt had taken it upon himself to make sure that this wedding would be the wedding to end all weddings. He had carefully planned everything (with the help of Blaine, who was just as eager as he was), right down to the vows, and he had to say, he was rather proud of his work. This was going to be the best wedding Lima had seen in years. Maybe even decades.

He just hoped Karofsky would allow him to live to see it.

* * *

Carson rubbed his eyes and stared at his laptop screen, willing the pile of articles he had to finish typing to just type themselves. He had skipped glee today in order to catch up on some of his work, figuring that Kurt would be fine as long as Carson met up with him as soon as the club meeting let out. He'd been kind of neglecting the paper in his focus on keeping Kurt safe.

He was so engrossed in his work he didn't even hear the knock on the door or realize he had company until a hand came down and slammed his laptop shut. He found himself staring into Santana Lopez' face, which, at the moment, looked like she meant business.

"Can I help you?" he asked. "You know, it's really fucking rude to do that to other people's computers."

Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over the front of her Cheerio uniform. "Yeah, yeah, sorry or whatever. I have stuff to discuss with you, and I'm not particularly good at initiating a conversation without being a bitch. It's kind of my thing."

"And what, pray tell, would I possibly have to discuss with- oh no, what time is it?" Carson said suddenly, getting up from his chair and shoving his laptop into his bag. "Is glee done already? This is gonna have to wait, Santana. I have to go meet up with Kurt."

"Relax, will you? He's fine. Glee is still rehearsing for your dad's wedding. I just snuck out early because this is important," she said, her face becoming serious. "It's about Kurt."

Carson felt his stomach drop as he sat back down. "What about Kurt?"

"Let's just say that I'm gonna go ahead and assume that you have no idea who's been bullying Kurt all this time," said Santana. "Actually, scratch that. I _know_ you don't know, because I asked Kurt today if you knew. He got very snippy with me and avoided the question while calling me a nosy bitch, so I went ahead and took that as a no. Luckily, Aunty Tanny has somewhat of a soft spot for her favorite gay, so she's just gonna let that slide. She also thinks that his freakishly overprotective twin brother should know who's been making his life hell."

Carson felt a lump form in his throat as he sat up straighter in his seat. "I'm listening."

* * *

Kurt hurried through the halls as fast as he could after glee let out, stopping only to quickly retrieve his math book from his locker before heading straight for the journalism classroom. Luckily, Carson had skipped glee that day. Kurt wanted to hurry up and meet up with him before Carson went looking for him and heard about the glee guys getting into a fight with Karofsky that day on Kurt's behalf. Not that he wasn't grateful for their effort, but he really didn't want Carson knowing about it. The longer he could hide the truth about his bullying from his twin, the better. Who knew? Maybe Karofsky would eventually get bored and stop, and Carson would never have to know.

_Right, Kurt, and maybe Rachel will stop being such a diva and give away all her solos for the rest of her high school career_.

He turned the corner toward the journalism classroom, hoping he could make it this one final stretch of hallway without running into Karofsky. If he could make it to Carson, he was safe. He had just about reached the classroom door when it opened and Santana walked out, smoothing her Cheerio skirt and texting on her phone, walking in the opposite direction away from Kurt. She hadn't seen him.

_So that's where she disappeared to in the middle of glee. What the hell? What was she doing in there?_ thought Kurt. _God, Carson, please don't tell me I have to start worrying about you spending time with her. She's no good for you. _He pushed open the door and entered the classroom, where Carson was sitting at a desk, wearing the expression on his face he always got when he just couldn't believe something had just happened.

_You know what? I don't want to know right now. It's been a long and tiring day, and I just want to pretend everything is fine_.

"Everything ok?" he asked Carson brightly. His twin looked over at him and jumped up from his chair immediately, looking like he wanted to say something. He actually opened his mouth as if to start speaking, but closed it, having apparently changed his mind.

"Yeah…..yeah, I'm good. Hey, why don't we go home and you….you can show me all your latest plans for the wedding," he said, sounding a little too eager. Kurt frowned. Carson never asked to see his wedding plans, and Kurt didn't usually bother to involve him. Not after he had insisted to Kurt that all the flowers he had shown him looked exactly the same, despite the fact that Kurt tried to point out the slight differences in color.

"Okay," Kurt replied. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? Don't you have to go visit Grandma?"

"I…I can skip today," said Carson. He led him out into the hallway arm in arm, and Kurt was about to ask him if he was sure he was feeling alright when they turned the corner and walked right past Karofsky. Kurt froze as Karofsky directed a chilling smile in his direction, and he felt Carson's grip on his arm tighten as he pulled Kurt closer to him.

_Oh please….please don't let this be the day my luck runs out, please. Please._

Thankfully, Karofsky continued walking past them and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, although he knew he would probably pay for this the next day.

They went straight home and sat at the kitchen table with a bowl of popcorn between them as Kurt went over each of his plans for the wedding in detail, with Carson smiling and nodding in all the right places and even asking questions. It was weird. He'd never been this interested before. Unless….

_Unless maybe he's trying to distract me because he knows I saw Santana leaving the journalism classroom today and he's embarrassed. Oh, Carsey._

"Kurt?" Carson asked as they prepared to go to bed that night.

"Yeah?" Kurt replied. Carson sounded like there was something heavy weighing on his mind. "What is it, Carsey?"

"I…" Carson began, then changed his mind and shook his head. "I just….never mind. Let's go to sleep. It's a long-ass day tomorrow."

"Yes, and don't forget, I want you and Finn in the choir room in the afternoon for dancing lessons. I'm teaching Dad a few things, and both of you need the practice too."

"Aw, Kurt, do I have to?" Carson whined. "I don't even want to dance at the wedding. I thought I'd just sit and watch everyone else dance and possibly make fun of them later."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. "Carson. Come on. Humor me. Please?" He stuck his lip out in the pouty face, and Carson sighed.

"You never play fair."

Kurt grinned. "I know. That's what makes me the lovable cupcake you adore so much, right?"

Carson raised his eyebrows at him. "Don't push it, Kurtsie. Good night," he said, sliding under the covers and turning out the light.

"Good night, Carsey," Kurt replied, snuggling up into his usual place in Carson's arms.

* * *

The small cry was what woke Carson up, his eyes fluttering open as he took in his surroundings.

"What is your problem!" he heard ring out in the quiet room, his eyes shooting open as he came to the realization that Kurt was having a nightmare beside him.

"Hit me….go ahead….hit me…" Kurt was saying, squirming around in the bed where he was still halfway held in place by Carson's arms. Clearly he hadn't gotten far enough into his dream to start sleepwalking yet.

"Kurt," Carson whispered, stroking his arm gently. "Kurt, wake up."

"STOP!" Kurt shouted. "NO, STOP. PLEASE." He sounded panicked, his breathing turning into gasps, and Carson could feel Kurt's heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. He immediately grew alarmed.

"Kurt!" he said louder, shaking him. He had to wake him up and calm him down before he hyperventilated.

"DON'T!...Oh, god, STOP. CARSON! CARSON, WHERE ARE YOU? HELP ME. OH GOD, PLEASE HELP ME!" Kurt was flailing around, his feet kicking at something he could obviously see in his dream. "HELP.."

"Kurt!" Carson shouted, extremely scared now as he shook Kurt a little harder. "Oh god, Kurt, baby, WAKE UP."

"CARSON, PLEASE! HELP MEEEE," Kurt was crying now. He was fucking _crying_.

"KURT!" Carson leaned over him and took Kurt's face in both is his hands, patting his cheeks as hard as he dared. He didn't really want to slap him awake and hurt him. "Kurt, please wake up!"

Kurt let out a long gasp and his eyes flew open, filling with panic when he found himself with a body over him until he registered it was just Carson.

"C-carson?"

"Yeah, Kurtsie, it's me," Carson said softly, stroking Kurt's cheek. "You were having a nightmare."

Kurt sat up and threw his arms around Carson, hugging him close like his life depended on it (and maybe it did, if that nightmare was anything to go by).

"Carson, oh god, I…I was so scared, he…he…the locker room, and…..I needed you…"

"Shhhh," Carson soothed, rubbing Kurt's back and kissing the top of his hair. "I'm here. It was just a dream."

Kurt started crying again, his shoulders raising up and down with huge sobs as Carson held him.

"I was so alone, Carson," he said through sobs and hiccups. "I wanted you. Just you, and I…I couldn't…"

Carson held him through it, gently massaging Kurt's back until the sobs tapered off into sniffles. "I'm here now, Kurtsie. I'm here." His conversation with Santana earlier that day appeared in the forefront of his mind as he took a deep breath and steeled himself up. Kurt would fight it, but Carson needed to know. He needed to hear it from Kurt.

"Kurt," he said, his hands keeping up their gentle rhythm on Kurt's back, "This is about your bullying, isn't it?"

Kurt froze. "I…no…"

"Kurt, _please_ be honest with me," Carson pleaded. "You're really starting to scare me. That nightmare sounded just awful, not to mention that you're always in pain and you're barely even eating anymore. You….you _have_ to tell me who's doing this to you. This can't go on anymore. It's killing you." Kurt stiffened in his arms and gripped at him tighter.

"I can't tell you," he said quietly.

Ok. Enough was enough. Carson gently pulled Kurt away from him and looked him right in the eye.

"Kurt, I absolutely refuse to go another day with you keeping this big of a secret from me. I'm your brother, damn it. I love you. I love you so much. It's my job to protect you, and I want to know who this asshole is and everything he has ever done to you, so he can pay."

Kurt shook his head vigorously. "Carson, no. I can't. I just can't tell you."

Carson sighed. "Kurt, look, I already know it's Karofsky, so you might as well tell me everything." Kurt looked at him sharply, panic filling his eyes once more as his mouth fell open.

"I…..how…who told you that?" he stammered. "It was Finn, wasn't it? I _told_ him to keep his stupid mouth shut. I told him. And he-"

"It was Santana, actually, but why does it matter who told me?" Carson asked, not paying enough attention to notice the dark look that crossed Kurt's face at his words. "The point is, you didn't, and in fact the whole fucking glee club knew about it before I did. And that hurts that you don't trust me enough to-"

"It's not that," Kurt said quietly.

"What?"

"It's not that I…that I don't trust you. I didn't want you to know because I didn't want you confronting him and getting hurt," said Kurt miserably. "I couldn't handle that, Carson. If you got hurt because of me."

Carson let out the huge breath he'd been holding and grabbed for Kurt's hand, holding it gently in his own. "What did he do to you, Kurtsie? Please. Please tell me. I want to know everything. Just tell me everything, and I promise I won't try to fight him, ok? We'll figure something else out. Get the police involved if we have to. Ok? Just….please."

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out shakily before gripping Carson's hand tighter. "Well…um…mostly he would walk up to me and slam me into lockers. That….that's where the bruises came from. From the lockers."

Carson did his best to squash the rising tidal wave of anger that was flowing through him at the thought of that oversized asshole hurting his brother like that. "What else?" he asked.

Kurt squirmed uncomfortably. "Well….he…oh Carson, you're going to be so mad…"

Carson felt a lead weight settle in his stomach at those words. "Kurt, please. I promised you."

Kurt swallowed and looked off to the side. "He….he…..he kissed me."

Carson swore he felt his whole body explode with red, hot fury. "He WHAT?"

Kurt bit his lip and looked at him. "In the locker room, on the day the girls performed that mashup. I just….he had slammed me into the lockers again, and I was just _tired_ of it, and I had just met Blaine, and he had said that I should-"

"Wait," Carson interrupted. "You told _him_ about Karofsky? _Why_?"

Kurt sighed. "I wasn't planning on it, Carson. It just kind of spilled out the day we met. He'd been through bullying too, and he said that I should confront Karofsky. So I did, and…..he…..he just grabbed me and kissed me. Oh, Carson, it was awful. I was so scared, and I just….I wanted you. That was all I could think while it was happening. That I wanted you to come and hold me and…and tell me everything would be ok." Kurt was crying again now, and Carson almost shattered into a million pieces as he grabbed him and held him, letting Kurt cry into his T-shirt as he thought dark, murderous thoughts about Karofsky. Karofsky, who had hurt Kurt. Who had _sexually assaulted_ Kurt. He felt a brief pang of regret when he thought about the occasions where he had almost kissed Kurt himself, and he suddenly wished with all his might that he had. Because then at least Kurt's first kiss wouldn't have been with a closeted, abusive asshole who he was scared of. At least it would have been with someone who loved him with all their heart.

"Did he do anything else?" Carson asked quietly. Kurt was quiet for a minute before he shook his head against Carson's chest.

"No…no, that…that's all," he said. "All…all he's done is keep slamming me into lockers since Blaine talked to him about the kiss, and-"

"Wait, WHAT?" Carson exclaimed, pulling away from Kurt and looking at him incredulously. "Kurt, you told _him_ about that kiss?"

"I'm sorry," said Kurt quietly. "I need to talk to someone about it, and it….it couldn't be you, so I told Blaine and he came to the school and tried to talk to Karofsky for me. He was trying to help."

"Well obviously he did _such_ a wonderful fucking job, because obviously you're not being bullied anymore" Carson muttered sarcastically. "Kurt, I don't understand. You should have come to _me_! I'm with you at school every day. Your little Warbler friend isn't. I'm the one who can protect you. I'm the one who_should_ protect you!"

"No, Carson, really. If you had known from the start that it was Karofsky, you would have gone right up to him and punched him or something, and then he would have seriously hurt you or worse," said Kurt. "And I wasn't going to let that happen to you. And you have to swear to me you won't do that now that I've told you. I can't go every day worrying about the next attack on me AND worrying about something happening to you. It's too much for me to handle. So promise me. Please."

Carson sighed. "As long as you promise me that you'll _tell me_ from now on when some asshole is bothering you."

"I will. I….I promise. I'll tell you everything," said Kurt. Carson hugged him once more and stroked his hair.

"I won't let him hurt you again, though, Kurtsie," he whispered. "I promise I won't."

He settled down into the bed, pulling Kurt with him and holding him close against his chest, waiting for him to fall asleep. He thought about everything he had learned in the past twenty-four hours, and he seethed with anger.

He'd never wanted anyone dead as much as he wanted Karofsky dead.

* * *

"Thank you three for attending the Kurt Hummel Wedding Dance Seminar," Kurt said in the choir room the next afternoon as he stood facing three stools, on which sat Carson, Finn, and Burt. Carson didn't really want to be there. He was in a bad mood. He'd planned to at least find Karofsky when he got to school that day and give him a verbal piece of his mind. He was also planning to let him know that if he ever even thought of touching Kurt again, Carson would make sure to find a way for him to regret it. He'd only promised Kurt he wouldn't confront Karofsky _violently_. He'd said nothing about verbally.

But Karofsky hadn't been seen all day, and Carson was uneasy. He wanted to know that Neanderthal's whereabouts at all times.

"Dad," Kurt continued, "You're gonna have to pull off the first dance with Carole. And, if Uncle Andy's 40th birthday party was any indication, you're gonna need some work."

"What are you talking about? My moves were great! It was the damn sangria," Burt protested.

Carson snorted. Kurt looked over at him. "Don't laugh, Carson. I've seen more than my fair share of what you call dancing, and trust me, you'll need even more work than dad."

Carson frowned. "Hey, Kurtsie, come on. Be nice to me." He stuck out his lip in an attempt to do Kurt's signature pout and Kurt just gave him a long, hard look.

"Again, that only works when I do it. Okay," Kurt said, turning back to their dad and grabbing him by the hands, "We dance to the beat, not to the words." He pulled him into the middle of the choir room and started leading him through the steps of what would be his first dance with Carole as Carson watched them, growing nervous. He hoped Kurt wasn't planning to have _him_ dance like that, because…no.

Kurt sent Burt off to go practice by himself while he worked with Finn. Carson yawned.

"I'll be coming for you in a minute, Carson. Don't think I won't," Kurt teased.

"Can I just die instead?"

"Nope," said Kurt cheerfully. "Ok, Finn, come on."

"Can we shut the door?" Finn whined. "I don't feel comfortable doing this with people watching."

"What are you talking about?" Kurt asked, exasperated. "You danced in front of a thousand people at regionals." Finn sighed and conceded, letting Kurt take his hand and lead him in the dance he'd be doing with his mother at the reception.

Carson was the first one to notice Karofsky watching them through the open choir room door. His blood boiled as he glared at the larger boy, seething with fury. He couldn't confront him right now. Not with his dad right there. Kurt would never forgive him.

Karofsky smirked and raised his hand in a limp wrist gesture clearly aimed at Kurt and Finn. Carson was two seconds away from getting up from his seat and punching the fuck out of him, but he didn't get the chance, even if he'd decided to. Because everyone else in the room had turned just in time to see the gesture, too.

"What the hell was that?" Burt demanded to know as Karofsky turned around to leave.

"It's nothing, Dad," said Kurt, looking uncomfortable as he dropped Finn's hands.

"That was not nothing," said Burt, crossing over to Kurt and pointing out the door. "That guy was making fun of you. What the hell's his name?"

Carson watched as Kurt's face grew even more uncomfortable, the kind of face that Carson knew meant "Please get me out of here or let the floor swallow me up."

_Kurt, please. Tell Dad. Please._

"Tell him, Kurt," spoke up Carson quietly. Kurt glared at him. _I'm sorry, Kurt. I am. But I can't let you go through this anymore._

"Tell me what?" Burt demanded.

"Tell him, or I will," said Carson.

The look of betrayal on Kurt's face nearly killed Carson, but he knew it was for the best. Their dad had to know.

"His name is Dave Karofsky," answered Kurt. "He's been harassing me for a few weeks now." _A few weeks is a bit of an understatement, Kurt. It's been far longer than that._

"Harassing you how?" asked Burt, his voice dropping into what Carson recognized as dangerous territory.

"Just….shoving me and giving me a hard time," said Kurt quickly. He wasn't going to tell Burt about the kiss, clearly. _Kurt, come on. He has to know_.

"There's more. There's something else you're not telling me," said Burt.

_Kurt, please tell him about the kiss. Please. He has to know everything so that he can help. I can't help you by myself._

"He threatened to kill me," said Kurt in a rush, looking guiltily over at Carson.

What.

WHAT?

_What did he just say? Did…did he…Karofsky did WHAT?_

The room suddenly went silent for Carson as his blood started rushing in his ears. Karofsky had threatened to kill Kurt. Kill him. Murder him. Hurt him so badly that he _died_.

And Kurt hadn't told him. He'd promised to tell Carson everything, and he hadn't. Carson didn't know what to feel. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch a hole in the fucking choir room wall. He wanted to go after Karofsky and bash his face in with the nearest blunt object.

He was seriously considering that last option, but apparently, his dad also had plans for Karofsky. He was running out of the choir room before any of the three teens could say anything else to him. Carson ran after him, followed closely by Finn and Kurt. He caught up to him just as Burt caught Karofsky and slammed him up against the nearest wall. All the students in the hall stopped and stared.

"What the hell?" yelled Karofsky.

"You like picking on people? Why don't you try me?" Burt growled, getting up in Karofsky's face.

"Burt, stop!" exclaimed Finn.

"Please, you're sick!" Kurt begged, grabbing at Burt's arm and trying to pull him off Karofsky. "Come on!"

Burt let himself be pulled off Karofsky, who just stood there for a second. And Carson felt his anger rising within him like a fucking volcano. True, his father was too sick to be getting into physical fights to protect Kurt.

But Carson was perfectly healthy. And he was in a fucking _rage_.

For a minute, time stood still as Carson stood there staring at Karofsky. At his stupid fucking face. At his hands. He thought about how many times those menacing eyes had locked onto Kurt's, silently threatening him into submission. He thought about how many times those hands had been on Kurt, roughly shoving him into the hard, metal lockers. How many times those hands had caused Kurt pain and suffering. He thought about the giant constellation of angry, painful bruises marring the smooth, porcelain skin of Kurt's back. Bruises that had been caused by the very asshole standing before him. He thought about Kurt's whimper of pain the night he had discovered those bruises. He thought about Kurt just twelve hours prior, screaming and begging the Karofsky of his nightmares to stop. He thought about Karofsky _kissing Kurt_ in the locker room. How scared Kurt must have been. How trapped he must have felt. Carson knew, because he had felt it too. He thought about how the entire club had known about this before he had, and how he hadn't been able to protect Kurt from experiencing this daily horror no matter how much he wanted to or tried. He was Kurt's big brother. He was supposed to keep him safe and defend him from harm. Even more importantly, he _loved_ Kurt. Not just as a brother, but in all ways. In every sense of the word, he loved Kurt.

And he had failed him. He had failed to protect the person he loved most in the world from this monster standing in front of him right now. This fucking animal who had hurt Kurt. Who had threatened to _murder_ him. Who very well might have carried through with that threat if he had never been found out.

Carson thought about all of these things within the span of several seconds. And then he snapped. That asshole was never going to lay a finger on Kurt again if Carson had anything to say about it. And Carson had plenty to fucking say about it.

Without even thinking about the consequences, he found himself lunging for Karofsky, his fist connecting with the other boy's jaw. Karofsky let out a yell and swung at him, missing when Carson ducked it just in the nick of time.

"Carson!" he heard Kurt scream behind him. "Carson, stop! NO!" Carson felt Karofsky kick him in the shin, and then Kurt was rushing up to them, grabbing at Karofsky's arm as the larger boy was preparing to swing at Carson again.

"NO, don't touch him!" Kurt screamed, trying to yank Karofsky's arm away from Carson. Karofsky roughly threw him off and Kurt lost his balance and fell. He let out a small whimper as he collided with a wall of lockers, Finn and Burt rushing to his aid as everyone else in the hall just continued to stare. Everyone always stared. Useless fuckers.

Fuck no. That was it. Carson was DONE. That motherfucker had put his filthy hands on Kurt one too many times. Never again.

"You will NOT. Fucking. Hurt. My brother. Again. You. Goddamn. Asshole!" Carson yelled, punctuating every word with a swing of his fist, some of which landed satisfyingly on Karofsky's face and some of which didn't. He swung wildly at him, pounding at every part of him he could reach, and everything became a blur. He knew he got in a couple of really good punches and at least one good kick, and then he was vaguely aware of Kurt screaming his name, and there was a sharp pain in his face as Karofsky finally landed a punch.

"ENOUGH!" Carson heard his father shouting as he collapsed to the floor, his face throbbing. "Get out of here NOW before I call the police. And don't think this is over. You won't be getting away with what you've been putting my kid through. Now GO!"

"If you ever fucking touch him again, I swear you will regret the day you were born, asshole!" Carson shouted after the retreating Karofsky, his voice echoing off the metal of the lockers. Through his good, unswollen eye, he saw Kurt shrug himself free from Finn, who had been holding him back from the fight, and then Kurt was kneeling beside him and Carson was being gently pulled into his twin's lap. Kurt's face was looking down at him, his eyes clouded over with worry and tears.

"Carson, oh my god," he whispered, his hand ghosting over Carson's injury but not touching it. "Oh, my poor baby. That must hurt so much."

"Not really," Carson lied, blinking up at him through his good eye.

"Liar," said Kurt, stroking his hair softly. "Go get some ice from the cafeteria," he ordered Finn, who was standing around looking like he didn't quite know what to do. "I have to get the swelling in his face to go down." Finn nodded and left, and Burt knelt down on the floor beside the twins, looking worried but also prouder than Carson could ever remember.

"You were brave, kid," he said with a small smile. "Not that I condone violence, you understand, and I believe we had this talk before when you hit Finn." Carson nodded.

"But," his father continued, "I know how fiercely protective you are of Kurt, and considering the circumstances, I would gladly have done the same thing to that jerk. You're a good brother, Carson. I'm proud of you." He patted him affectionately on the shoulder and grabbed his hands, helping him up as Finn returned with a bag of ice. Kurt eagerly grabbed it from him with one hand and took Carson's arm with the other.

"Come on, Carsey, we have to get the ice on that shiner before it swells more," he said, leading Carson into a nearby restroom. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and set some ice inside, wrapping it and applying it gently to Carson's swollen face.

"Ow," Carson couldn't help but groan as the cold compress made contact with his injury, causing a sharp spike of pain that radiated throughout his entire face.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said sympathetically. "It's going to hurt for a while until the ice numbs it. He really got you good." He eased the pressure of the ice slightly, and Carson sighed with relief.

"That's better," he said, trying to sound bright and giving Kurt a smile. "I'll be good in a few minutes. Are _you_ ok? You fell into the lockers."

Kurt ignored the question. He looked at him carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as he gradually increased the pressure on the compress. "You shouldn't have done that," he said quietly, his voice shaking slightly. "You….you could have been seriously hurt, and from now on he's probably going to harass you, too. You _promised _me you wouldn't do this."

Carson raised his eyebrows at him (as well as he could, considering he couldn't feel one of them at the moment). "Yeah, I did. And _you_ promised _me_ that you would tell me everything that asshole had done to you. You failed to mention that he threatened to kill you. So I guess we're even, since we both broke promises to each other. Besides, I'd love to see him harass me. I hit him more than he hit me."

Kurt sighed and closed his eyes, looking extremely fatigued. "Carson, I-"

"Did he know?" Carson asked quietly.

"What?"

"Your dapper little Warbler friend. He knew about Karofsky and the kiss. Did…did he know about this, too?" Carson could hear his voice breaking toward the end of that question, but he couldn't help it.

Kurt shook his head. "No! No, Carson, I didn't tell Blaine about this. I didn't tell anyone. I was scared, and I didn't know what Karofsky would do if-"

"No," Carson interrupted. "Listen. He threatened to kill you, Kurt. KILL you. As in, end your life. And you didn't tell me. You weren't ever going to tell me. You weren't going to tell _anyone_. And what if he had followed through with that threat? What if he had decided one day to do more than just slam you into a locker? Hmm? Then what? God, Kurt, do you have _any _idea what that would do to me if something happened to you, especially if I could have done something to stop it? I don't know if you realize how much you mean to me, but I love you more than anything. I mean…do you even _know_ how devastated I would be if I lost you? Do you? I-"

He was interrupted by Kurt's soft hand cupping the good side of his face, his eyes staring directly into Carson's. "Actually, Carson, I think I do," he said, stroking Carson's cheek gently with his thumb. "I know exactly how you would feel, because it's the same way I would feel if anything happened to you. And that's why I didn't want to tell you. I knew you would…well, I knew you would do exactly what you just did, no matter how much I begged you not to, and I didn't want you to get hurt."

Carson sighed and nuzzled his face into Kurt's touch, trying to compose himself before he ended up crying. "I just love you, Kurt. I want you to be safe, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I'd beat the shit out of Karofsky a thousand more times if I had to."

Kurt set the ice pack down on a sink and wrapped his arms around Carson, pulling him into a tight hug. "I know you would, Carsey," he whispered, rubbing small circles into Carson's back as Carson returned the hug. "I know."

Carson buried his face in Kurt's shoulder and inhaled his familiar, comforting scent. Kurt was here and he was ok, and Carson would make damn sure nobody ever hurt him again. If Karofsky wanted to fuck with Kurt again, it would have to be over Carson's dead body.

"So," said Carson after a minute, "How did I do? I know I landed a few good punches. How was the damage?"

Kurt laughed and pulled away from the hug to look at him. "You did pretty well, actually. He was bleeding when he left."

"Good," replied Carson. "He'll be dead the next time if he ever touches you again." He grabbed Kurt's hand and gently held it in his own, running his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. "No more secrecy, ok? Next time anyone bothers you, I want you to tell me. Please?"

Kurt leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead before hugging him once more. "I promise. I do. Now, let's get more ice on that thing. It must hurt like hell."

Carson sighed. "It does. It really does."

* * *

Thankfully, a meeting with Ms. Sylvester was all it took to get Karofsky expelled from school, for which Carson was extremely grateful. Kurt could actually walk down the school hallways again without fearing for his safety, and Carson was able to relax a little with his bodyguard routine (although he would never truly relax when it came to Kurt…not really). Carson had been let off with a warning not to get into any more physical fights.

So the plans for the Hudson/Hummel wedding were once again underway. Burt had found them a bigger house several blocks away from their old one several weeks before Karofsky's expulsion, and they were able to move in fairly quickly. Carson was relieved to note that there was still a bedroom big enough for him and Kurt to share, while Finn got his own room.

_Good, _Carson had thought as he and Kurt moved their furniture into their new bedroom. _I was NOT going to have a repeat of the Great Lamp Incident of 2010_. It did feel weird not sleeping in the basement, but he adjusted.

So then there was nothing left but to finish the last minute details for the wedding. Kurt worked double time making sure everything was perfect, calling in Blaine for reinforcements every once in a while, much to Carson's chagrin. He was relieved as fuck to learn that, even though Kurt had invited him, Blaine wouldn't be able to make it.

"Good," Carson had said when Kurt told him the news. "This wedding is for humans, not hobbits. Rachel's lucky we're even allowing _her_ to attend."

The actual wedding went off without a hitch, even if he and Kurt had had an argument on the morning of the ceremony over concealer.

"I don't waaaaant it!" Carson had whined when Kurt chased him down with the stick of pale makeup.

"You should wear it on your eye, Carson," Kurt had insisted. "Your bruising hasn't gone down yet. Do you really want it showing up in the pictures you're going to see for the rest of your life?"

"Yes!"

"But Carson-"

"Look, Kurt, I'm actually kind of proud of this black eye, ok? I got it from defending you. When I look back on the pictures in fifty years, I'll be able to say "Look at that shiner. I got it from beating up the asshole who thought he could hurt my Kurtsie and get away with it." And then everyone will say how awesome and heroic I was."

Kurt had given him an amused smile and cupped Carson's face with his hands, placing a gentle kiss over his still slightly swollen eye.

"Know what? That's why I love you," he'd said. "Ok, you don't have to wear the concealer."

Now the ceremony was finished, and Carson was just grateful it was over and he wouldn't have to perform any more Bruno Mars songs with the glee club for the rest of the evening. He prepared to just sit back during the reception and relax. Maybe Kurt would forget that he'd wanted him to dance.

He was slightly horrified that he had to watch Mr. Schuester sing while Burt and Carole danced their first dance, but not nearly as horrified as he was by Finn's best man speech.

"Hi," said Finn stupidly into the microphone. "Uh. Thank you. Best man. Right. Uh-"

_Well, this is just off to SUCH a great start, isn't it?_ thought Carson.

"Well, I want to propose a toast to my mom, who is so awesome," Finn said at last. "Uh..I mean…somehow, even without one in the house, you taught me what it means to be a man."

_Really? I thought Mr. Schue taught you what it meant to be a man. Or so you've said repeatedly ever since you joined the damn glee club._

"In glee club," Finn continued, "uh...whenever two of us got together, we got a nickname. Rachel and I are Finchel, Rachel and Puck were Puckleberry.."

_Rachel gets around, we get it. Get to the point._

"..and today, a new union was formed. Furt."

_Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me?_

"You and me, man," said Finn to an embarrassed looking Kurt. "We're brothers from another mother."

_I have news for you, Finn, it was Kurson long before it was fucking Furt, so shut the hell up_.

"And quite frankly, no one has taught me as much as you about what it means to be a man," Finn continued.

_Jesus. H. Christ._

"From now on, no matter what it costs me, I've got your back," Finn finished.

_Yeah, now that Karofsky isn't a threat, you've got his back. Excuse me, Finn, I don't believe you're the one who's been with Kurt his whole life and, in particular, has soothed him through horrible, screaming nightmares about what Karofsky did to him. I also don't think you're the one sitting here with a black eye from having Kurt's back. You know who is, though? Me. Kurt's back is MINE, ok?_

Finn said a few more words about Kurt's awesome wedding planning skills and then launched into a caterwauling rendition of "Just The Way You Are," which he dedicated to Kurt. Carson wished desperately that he had an aspirin to deal with the headache that was forming both from having to Finn sing another Bruno song, and from him dedicating a song to Kurt in which he referred to him repeatedly as "Girl."

_Finn….I fucking can't._

He pretty much gave up when Kurt and Finn pulled their parents up to dance toward the end of the song and then Santana rushed over to pull Carson into a dance, despite how hard he resisted. He was grateful that Kurt marched over at the beginning of the next song (a slow one played on the loudspeakers and not sung by Finn, thankfully), and tapped Santana on the shoulder.

"Move, Satan. I'm cutting in," he said, grabbing Carson's hands and beginning to lead him in the dance they had practiced in their bedroom the day after the Karofsky fight.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Carson mumbled, trying to remember what Kurt had said to do with his feet. Kurt laughed.

"You're hopeless! Ok, just….here, put your head on my shoulder and just sway with me," he said. Carson obeyed, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder and losing himself in the melody of the song. He didn't know what it was, but it sounded pretty. He breathed in and savored the scent of Kurt's cologne, letting it envelop his senses.

"You threw a great wedding," he said.

Kurt smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Carsey. I can't wait to plan my own someday," Kurt replied, sounding wistful. Carson had a feeling he was probably thinking about Blaine, and his chest began to ache.

"Yeah….me too."

* * *

Carson felt like he was going to die as he sat in the backseat of their father's car next to Kurt. They were taking him to Dalton Academy, where it was decided Kurt would be much safer in the long run than he would be if he stayed at McKinley. Karofsky was back. His expulsion had been reversed by the school board shortly after the wedding. Carson had been so angry when he found out, but not as angry (or fucking _sad_) as he had been when he had learned of Kurt's decision to transfer schools.

"Kurt, you can't go to _Dalton_, of all places!" he'd protested. "You'll be around that creepy hobbit guy all day! Not to mention that you'll have to board there! I….I won't be there to protect you," he said.

Kurt had given him a sympathetic look and put his arm around him. "I know, Carson, but they have zero-tolerance for bullying. It's really the safest place. I can't stay here anymore. Not with Karofsky around."

"I'll kill him!" said Carson. "I will. I'll make him never want to touch you again. I'll-"

"Carson," said Kurt sadly, shaking his head. "No. Please don't make this harder for me. It's going to be hard enough as it is."

So now Carson found himself standing in Kurt's new dorm room, helping him and their father move Kurt's things in and trying not to think about the fact that when he returned home that night, it would be without his twin.

"Now, remember, Kurt, if you need anything, anything at all, we're just a phone call away," Burt reminded him for the hundredth time as he wrapped Kurt up in a hug. They were about to leave. And Carson wasn't ready.

"I know, Dad," Kurt said, his words muffled by their father's shirt as he hugged him back. "I'll be fine."

"And you can always come home," Burt continued.

"_Dad_, I'll be _fine_," Kurt insisted. "I promise."

"Right. Of course you will. It's just….you're my baby and neither one of you boys have ever lived away from home before, and-"

"Dad, seriously, you're going to make me all depressed," said Kurt. He turned to Carson and gave him a long, sad look.

"I'll leave you two to say your goodbyes," said Burt, patting Kurt on the shoulder one last time before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. The boys just looked at each other for a long minute.

"So….I guess….I guess this is it," said Carson, trying valiantly not to sound as depressed as he felt. "This is where we really say goodbye."

Kurt said nothing for a second, and then before Carson knew it, he found himself with an armful of Kurt as Kurt launched himself at him, wrapping him in the tightest hug Carson had ever felt.

"I'm going to miss you the most," he said tearfully, and Carson could feel Kurt's tears on his neck as Kurt rested his head there. "Everyone else….I mean, it will be weird not to see them every day, especially Dad, but….I…I've never been apart from you before, Carsey. I don't know if I can…"

"Shhhh," Carson said soothingly, holding Kurt gently against him and trying not to cry. He couldn't let Kurt see him cry. "It's ok, Kurtsie. It's not forever. We'll still see each other on the weekends, right?"

He felt Kurt nod. "Right."

"Exactly. I'll drive here to pick you up every Friday, rain or shine. You can count on that. And I will call you every day. Probably like eight or nine times a day. And you'd better pick up every time or else my mind will go nuts with worry that your little Warbler friend has dragged you over to his hobbit cave to have his wicked way with you," said Carson, smiling a little when he heard Kurt's strangled giggle, even though he was only half kidding.

"You worry too much," Kurt said, pulling his face away from Carson's neck and looking him in the eyes.

"You're right. I do. And I always will, no matter what. But I know that this is what's best for you, Kurt, and even though it fucking kills me to let you go, that's what it's gonna take for you to be safe. McKinley isn't safe. And despite the fact that this place looks like a creepy school in some horror movie about secret societies and I don't trust that Baxter guy you like so much, it's actually the safest place for you."

Kurt bit his lip and nodded. "What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?"

"You're not the only one who worries, you know," said Kurt, wiping the tears away from his eyes and sniffling. "You're probably on Karofsky's shit list by now, and if…if he doesn't have me to pick on, he-"

"Ok, you stop that right now," said Carson firmly locking his eyes on his twin's matching ones. "I don't want you to worry about me, ok? I'll be fine."

"But-"

"Nope, stop it. I will be absolutely fine, and I'd love to see Karofsky try anything with me, especially since I still have a lot of pent up anger toward him for what he did to you. If he pulls shit, he will regret it. Trust me," said Carson, tapping lightly on the end of Kurt's nose.

Kurt nodded tentatively. "I trust you," he said with a small smile, returning to the hug and burying his face against the skin on Carson's neck again.

"I'm going to miss you so much, though," he whispered. Carson closed his eyes and just held him, feeling Kurt's heartbeat against his own and pleading with himself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of Kurt.

"I'll miss you too," he replied. "More than you know." He didn't need to say that he would miss Kurt so much that it would physically hurt him. Kurt didn't need to know that. It would only make him feel worse.

They stood there hugging for what seemed like forever until Burt opened the door back up and gently tapped Carson on the shoulder.

"Hey, kid, we've gotta get going," he said as Carson broke from Kurt's embrace. Kurt grabbed onto his hand and held tight.

"Bye, Kurtsie," Carson said.

"Bye," said Kurt sadly, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said as their hands slowly drifted apart.

Carson and Burt left the school then, heading out to the car in the visitor's parking lot. Carson buckled his seatbelt and glanced up at the huge, intimidating building where his baby brother was now going to be navigating through each of his days completely alone. Carson wouldn't be there to look out for him and make sure that he was safe.

"Take care of him. Oh god, please. Take care of him," he whispered to the school as his father started the car engine.

He managed to wait until he was safely in his and Kurt's bedroom that night, in bed, with the door closed and the light off, before he let himself start to cry. It was so weird to be in their bed alone, and in a room that was still so new and unfamiliar. He'd never gone a night without Kurt at least being in the same room. And now there was no Kurt. Kurt was miles away, laying alone in his dorm room. Carson wondered how he was dealing with the separation.

_Probably much better than I am_, he thought. He'd always known that they would have to deal with this someday, but he had thought he wouldn't have to worry about it until they went off to college. He wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to lose Kurt.

He sighed and willed himself to just fall asleep already, but it was no use. Sleep wasn't coming. Sleep couldn't come. He needed Kurt with him.

_Fuck_, he thought sadly. Getting out of bed, he crossed over to their closet and rooted through it until he came across one of Kurt's sleep T-shirts (hanging neatly on a hanger, of course, because Kurt hung up all of his clothes, even the sweats and sleepwear that he would never let anyone but Carson catch him dead wearing out of the house). He brought the shirt over to the bed and gently laid it over one of the pillows, smoothing it out so that the T-shirt fit over it like a pillowcase. It wasn't Kurt, of course, but at least it would smell like him. Carson hugged the pillow to his chest and took a deep breath, letting the scent of Kurt's detergent fill his nose.

And then the tears really started to fall. Carson couldn't remember ever crying so much in his entire life. He just wasn't much of a crier. But this….being apart from his twin was just too much to handle.

"Kurt," he whispered into the pillow. "I don't know if I can do this." But he had to. For Kurt's own good, he had to.

The sound of his phone ringing broke through his cloud of depression, and the sight of Kurt's smiling face on the call screen made his heart leap into his throat as he hurried to answer it.

"Kurt!" he said happily, trying to hide his shaking breath from the crying.

"I didn't think you could sleep, either," came Kurt's quiet voice on the other end of the line.

Carson sighed. "You're right. I can't. Honestly, Kurtsie, this….this kind of sucks."

"I know, it totally sucks," agreed Kurt. "We've never slept apart before. I, um….ok, don't be mad, but I kind of stole one of your hoodies and took it with me so I could wrap a pillow in it. I just needed something to hug that reminded me of you."

Carson looked over at his makeshift Kurt pillow and bit back a laugh. "It's fine, Kurt. Actually, I'm glad you did."

He heard Kurt sigh with relief, and then there was silence for a minute. "Carsey?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep? You don't have to talk or anything, I just…I just would feel better knowing that you're there, kind of." Kurt's voice sounded so small and far away, and Carson felt something deep inside of him start to hurt.

"Of course I will, Kurtsie. You don't even have to ask," Carson replied, deciding not to tell his twin that this would help him just as much as it would help Kurt. He had a feeling Kurt probably knew, anyway, on some level.

"Thanks," Kurt said quietly. "God, Carson, I miss you so much already."

"I know," said Carson, Boy, did he know. "But Friday will be here before you know it."

"Mmm, want it now," replied Kurt, sounding sleepy now.

"Go to sleep, Kurtsie. I love you."

"Love you, too," said Kurt.

Carson placed his phone on top of Kurt Pillow and hugged it to his chest again, comforted by the sound of Kurt breathing on the other end. It still wasn't the same as having him there with him, but it was something.

He couldn't _wait_ for the weekend to come.

* * *

The first week that Kurt was away at Dalton was the hardest for Carson to handle. His days were spent trudging through school like a zombie. He attended all his classes and had half-hearted Writers' Club meetings with Malerie, but that was it. He stopped attending glee meetings altogether (he didn't see the point in continuing to be in glee club if Kurt wasn't there). He went straight to Sunny Pastures after school every day, where he stayed for hours until it got to be too late for visitors and he was gently kicked out by the staff. He spent large portions of his day thinking about Kurt; what Kurt was doing, how he was feeling, if he was getting along alright in his classes. If he was making friends. If Blake was keeping his hands to himself. He texted Kurt as often as he could, and his day was always made momentarily brighter by Kurt's replies, until he remembered that he wasn't going to see him later that day.

Days were depressing, but nights were worse. He had such a hard time sleeping, even with his Kurt pillow, and he and Kurt couldn't always stay on the phone with one another. More often than not he spent the whole night staring into the dark, feeling the loneliness crushing him from all sides. He missed Kurt so much it hurt.

That first Friday couldn't come fast enough, and when it finally did, Carson practically sprang out of bed that morning. He was suddenly full of energy that had been absent from him for the past week. He was in such a good mood that he decided to hide the toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom before Finn woke up.

"Morning, Dad!" he said cheerfully as he came downstairs and poured himself some cereal. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

His father looked at him quizzically. "You're in a good mood today, kid."

Carson nodded. "Yep. Friday. Won't be home after school, I'm leaving early to pick up Kurt."

Burt smiled and nodded. "Good. Hey, call me when you get there, alright?"

"Will do," said Carson. A strangled scream suddenly erupted from upstairs. Carson grinned. "I guess he can't find the toilet paper, poor thing."

It was, by far, the longest school day of Carson's life, but at long last it had passed and he was on his way to Dalton to pick up Kurt. He got there just as school was letting out and got out of the car, leaning against it and waiting for his twin to appear in the huge crowd of identically-clothed students pouring out of the building and wandering the grounds outside.

_I hope he remembers I'll be here. I did tell him, right? Yes….yes I did. In my fourth text this morning. Or maybe the fifth. I dunno. I told him, though. I hope he can find me. Maybe I should text him again, or-_

His thoughts stopped dead as his eyes zeroed in on Kurt, who was walking with Blaine across the school's huge lawn and waving excitedly in Carson's direction._Damn, I never thought that Dalton uniform was all that attractive, but as usual, Kurt makes everything look good. Never even knew I had a schoolboy fetish._

"Carsey!" Kurt shouted happily, walking faster across the lawn. Carson sprinted over to him, reaching him in about two seconds, and scooped him up into a big hug, his arms wrapped tightly around Kurt's neck as he closed his eyes and sighed happily. This was Kurt. His twin. His love. Kurt was with him again. All was right with the world. He saw Blaine looking at them with a stupid, goofy smile on his face and narrowed his eyes at him, hugging Kurt tighter.

"Feels like you missed me," Kurt said.

"You have no idea," Carson replied.

"You guys are so close. That's sweet," said Blaine, grinning at them. Carson suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and broke from the hug, taking Kurt's hand in his own and starting to pull him toward the car. "Come on, let's get you home, Kurtsie."

"Ok. Bye, Blaine," Kurt said to the unwanted third wheel. "I'll see you Sunday."

"Bye, Kurt. Have fun!" replied Blaine.

"Gotta go, we're…we're late," Carson muttered, leading Kurt by the hand over to the car as fast as possible.

Carson felt like he was in heaven as he drove Kurt back to Lima, listening with rapt attention as Kurt chattered about life at Dalton. He'd joined the Warblers, obviously, and was making friends. His classes were harder than at McKinley, but he was doing fine in them. The teachers were nice, No, Blaine wasn't trying to drag him off to a secret sex dungeon, Carson, how could you even think that? And most importantly, there was no daily horror of being threatened by Karofsky.

Carson was most grateful for that last thing.

He felt really alive again as he crawled into bed with Kurt that night, curling up with him just as they had always done and inhaling the fresh, clean scent of him. This was right. This was home.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered into Kurt's hair, running his hands up and down Kurt's arms. Those muscles were really developing nicely. "I haven't felt right without you."

"I know what you mean," Kurt said, snuggling into Carson's arms and sighing. "Nights at Dalton are kind of hell. I'm not used to sleeping alone without you holding me, and I….I don't think I'll ever get used to it, to be honest. I just don't know."

"I'm already dreading you going back on Sunday," Carson said unhappily. "I know Dalton is best for you, but I wish it wasn't so far away. I hate not being with you. Not to mention that now I have to deal with living in the same house as Finn, and that's torture enough. You don't even know."

"Hey," Kurt said softly, tipping his head back to look at Carson. "Come on, now. Be nice. And let's not focus on that now. Let's enjoy our weekend, hmm?"

Carson smiled. "You're right. Let's go to sleep and actually….you know….be able to sleep. I haven't gotten a proper night's rest since you left. I feel like a fucking zombie. But a super intelligent zombie who's a serious journalist and doesn't tolerate other zombies' bullshit."

Kurt laughed. "I've missed you."

"Good night, Kurtsie."

"Good night."

It was the most pleasant weekend Carson could ever remember having, even if he did get a little sad every time he remembered that Kurt had to go back on Sunday, and even if he did have to spend Saturday afternoon with Rachel and Mercedes because Kurt had wanted to hang out with them and Carson didn't want to waste any of the weekend being away from Kurt.

But, all good things come to an end eventually, and so did the weekend. Kurt went back to Dalton, and Carson went back to being miserable at McKinley until the next Friday rolled around, occasionally insulting Finn for a few laughs, but otherwise just really hating his life. He only ever really felt like a whole person on the weekends now. He looked forward to them so much that he hated for anything to disrupt them, even if it was something like Kurt competing as part of the Warblers at Sectionals. Carson didn't see _why_ that had to fall on a Saturday, cutting severely into his quality Kurt time, but he still loved sitting in the audience and watching Kurt perform. Even if he was just glorified backup for Blaine, who was apparently the Rachel Berry of the Dalton Academy Warblers. _Christ, even transferring to another school, he can't catch a break, can he? What the fuck will it take to convince people that Kurt needs to sing solos? Am I the only one who clearly recognizes that it's bullshit he never gets any? Fuck_.

After many weeks of torture, Christmas break finally rolled around, and Carson looked forward to having two and a half glorious, uninterrupted weeks with Kurt where he wouldn't have to worry about losing him to Dalton. That was the best Christmas present he could ever hope for. He drove to Dalton on the day break started, full of actual joy and happy feelings.

Those feelings quickly disintegrated when he reached the doorway of the Dalton common room in time to observe Kurt singing a flirty rendition of "Baby It's Cold Outside" with Blaine. Carson stopped cold and just watched as his worst nightmare unfolded before his very eyes. Blaine was clearly flirting with Kurt, and Kurt was obviously enjoying it. It was terrifying. Not to mention that the song choice was creepy as fuck.

"For the record, you were much better than that girl's gonna be," Blaine said as they finished singing.

"Ahem," Carson cleared his throat to announce his presence, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Carson!" Kurt exclaimed, flushing as he noticed him standing there. "You're early! Blaine and I were just-"

"He was helping me practice my song for a performance I have coming up," Blaine interrupted him, flashing Carson his smile.

"I can see that," Carson said. "If you don't mind, Barry, I'm here to pick up Kurt and take him home for Christmas, so…" he nodded slightly toward the door he had just entered from, flashing Blaine a smile of his own that was more gritted teeth than actual smile and hoping he took the hint to get lost.

Blaine cleared his throat. "Right. Well…um…ok. I'll see you after the break, Kurt," he said turning to Kurt and patting him on the shoulder. Carson glared at him behind his back. _You have five seconds to get your hands off of him, dwarf….ok good._

Blaine nodded at Carson and exited the room, leaving the twins alone. Kurt's cheeks were still red, and Carson felt a surge of jealousy.

"Baby It's Cold Outside? Really? The classic holiday date rape anthem?" Carson asked as he helped Kurt gather his already packed bags, which were settled up against one of the couches in the common room.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I was just helping him, Carson. He needed to practice."

"Mmm-hmm. _Practice_. Practice drugging you and taking advantage of you, as the lyrics would suggest," Carson mumbled as they walked through the halls and out into the parking lot.

"Oh my god, Carson, it's just a song," said Kurt, exasperated. "He doesn't like me like that, trust me. And you know what? I wouldn't mind if he did. Like me, I mean. But he doesn't, obviously, and so you _really_ don't have to worry as much as you do."

Carson sighed and nodded, determined not to let Blaine darken his joyous Christmas mood. After all, he had so much time with Kurt to look forward to.

"Fine. Ok. I just worry. And I still don't trust him."

"Noted, Carson," said Kurt. "And as always, allow me to point out that you worry entirely too much. Now can we please go home?"

* * *

Christmas break was wonderful. Kurt loved having the opportunity to just be home and spend time with his friends and family, especially Carson, who pretty much never left his side. He missed him so much when he was away that sometimes it actually physically hurt. Dalton was a good school, and he liked being around Blaine so much (even if he was beginning to fear that Blaine would never get the hint that he liked him), but he missed being with Carson every day.

Kurt had thought that maybe being at Dalton and away from Carson would help suppress those certain feelings toward him that he definitely shouldn't have been having. Sometimes he thought it might actually be working, especially when he was around Blaine and felt the same sorts of things toward him, but the feelings for Carson were definitely still stronger, much to Kurt's dismay.

Love was confusing.

He wished he could have suppressed the insane wave of jealousy that passed through him when he got invited to a last-minute New Years' party at Santana's house and Carson had eagerly insisted on accompanying him.

"Why would you want to go?" Kurt asked, fearing Carson's reasoning. He had a feeling it had a lot to do with the fact that it was Santana's party and it would give Carson an excuse to be around her. "Parties aren't your thing."

"I…I just do," said Carson. "Can't I spend as much time with you as possible before you have to go back to school? Pretty soon I won't be able to see you as much."

"But there's teens and alcohol and popular music at this party," said Kurt as he quickly threw together an outfit to wear. "All the things you hate."

"I don't care," said Carson. "I'll deal. "

_Of course he'll deal. God, WHAT does he see in Santana that he's willing to go to a party, of all things, just to be around her? I don't get it_.

"Fine," said Kurt as he stripped off his shirt to change it. "But you're gonna hate it."

Kurt was wrong. Carson didn't hate it. Because Carson discovered the alcohol soon after arriving and was apparently having a fucking _blast._

"Are you planning on drinking?" he had asked Kurt as they walked up Santana's driveway.

"Not really. Alcohol and I have a very hateful relationship after what happened with Miss Pillsbury last year. Why, are you worried some mysterious guy will come rob me of my virtue if I have a taste of vodka?" asked Kurt.

"No, actually, I just wanted to know, because if you wanted to drink then I won't. Because someone has to drive us home," said Carson. "And you know I'd rather die than risk you becoming a splattered, bloody mess on the pavement."

"Of course," said Kurt. "In that case, no, I'm not planning on drinking. You have at it."

And Carson had. Boy, had he. Kurt couldn't help but remember the one and only time he had ever seen Carson get drunk. He had climbed onto the roof and wobbled around, loudly proclaiming that he could fly. And then he'd actually tried to fly. Thankfully, he was much too drunk to do much besides bend his knees a little. Kurt had almost had a heart attack. He'd never rushed inside the house and up the stairs so fast in his life, but within seconds he had the upstairs window open and was yanking Carson back inside the house by the back of his shirt, yelling at him to never do that again.

Apparently, a drunk Carson in a room full of people was an entirely different animal from a drunk Carson by himself. Not only was he dancing around to the music blaring from Santana's stereo system (and very clumsily, at that), he was actually being somewhat social, walking around with his red party cup and patting random members of New Directions on the back, sometimes giving them slurred, rather incoherent compliments.

"You…y'know what, Ro…Ra…Ruuchel, you know what? You shouldn't be so har' on yurself," Carson was saying, one arm slung lazily around the shoulder of Rachel, who looked extremely confused and slightly uncomfortable, much to Kurt's amusement. " You…you're not _that_ irritating. Like…I'm sure there's just, like,_dozens_ of people who're slightly more irritating than….than you. I can't….can't think of any ri'now, but…know what, I'll get back to you."

Ok, so maybe they were also backhanded compliments. Kurt watched as Rachel looked around, possibly waiting for someone to come and rescue her, but Carson just wandered off and started pouring more alcohol into his cup.

"Uuum…Carson?" Kurt asked, hurrying over to his twin's side. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Huh…noooo, Kuuuurt. No. I…this shit is some good shit, Kurssey, lemme tell you," Carson slurred, waving his cup around. "I feel gooood."

Kurt was about to protest that he wouldn't be feeling quite so good in the morning if he kept drinking like that, but he was interrupted by Santana turning the speakers off and standing in the middle of the Lopez living room, waving her own red cup in the air.

"Everybody get in here, we're playing 7 Minutes In Heaven!" she exclaimed, not a sign of a slur in her voice even though she had probably drunk more than Carson had by that point. "All you losers have to play, so let's go. Boys in a circle on the floor, girls up against the wall. You too, Hummels," she said, waving her cup in Kurt and Carson's direction. "Get your fine asses over here. You don't get to sit out and stare at us like those creepy bitches from _The Shining_."

Kurt gaped at her. 7 Minutes in Heaven? Was she kidding? _Ugh, I swear to god if she gets paired up with Carson I will yank the extensions right out of her hair_.

"Woooo!" Carson exclaimed, rushing to join the rest of the teens in the living room, to Kurt's astonishment. What the hell? He was most definitely drunk, because there was no way in hell he would ever agree to play anything with the glee club while sober, much less something like 7 Minutes In Heaven. Unless…unless he was excited because he could possibly be paired with Santana. Kurt hung his head and sighed. _Shit_.

"Kuuuuuurt, over here! O'er here!" Carson called, patting the empty bit of floor beside him and flashing Kurt a wide smile that showed all his teeth. "Come sit with meeee." Kurt reluctantly walked over and sat down. He didn't particularly want to play this stupid game, but he also didn't want to leave Carson alone to play it, either. Not to mention that he couldn't believe that Carson was actually approving of _Kurt_ playing it, considering how overprotective he always was. Clearly, alcohol lightened him up a lot. _Oh well_, Kurt thought. If Carson ended up paired with Santana, then maybe Kurt could think of some way to-

"Nuh-uh, Kurt," Santana chided, shaking her head at him from her spot against the wall beside Brittany. "You come stand with the girls."

Kurt glared at her. "I'm a guy, Santana."

Santana shrugged. "My party, my rules, Hummel."

Carson frowned and pointed his cup at Santana accusingly. "Don't…don' be a bitch, Sa…Sandy….Sat…Saltina," he said, his other hand patting clumsily at Kurt's shoulder. "Kur's not a girl."

Santana sighed. "Look, there's only five girls and there's seven guys. The pairings will be uneven if one of you doesn't join the girls' team, so to speak. And since Kurt's always doing that anyway…"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "_Fine_. But I'm not doing anything with my partner, just so you're all aware. I refuse."

Santana smiled at him evilly. "We'll see. Ok, I have this bottle here," she said, holding up an empty bottle from earlier in the evening. "All us girls, and Kurt, are going to take turns spinning the bottle in the middle of the circle of boys. Whoever it lands on is our partner, and once everyone's paired up we take turns in my mom's linen closet. It's huge. Oh, and you get who you get and you don't bitch," she said threateningly. "That goes for all of you."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was going to be a loooong evening. He prayed to a god he didn't even believe in that Carson got paired with someone other than Santana. Anyone else. Even Rachel, even if Carson would hate that. He just didn't think he could handle the idea of Santana alone in a closet with Carson for seven minutes with her well-manicured claws on him. Carson was drunk as hell. Who knew what could happen?

One by one, the girls took their turns spinning the empty bottle in the middle of the boys' circle until the potential pool of partners was dwindling down. "Your turn, Hummel," Santana crowed delightedly as Quinn handed Kurt the bottle after taking her turn and ending up with Artie. "Come on, spin that bottle."

Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle from Quinn, stalking into the middle of the circle and sitting down. "This is dumb," he complained as he carefully set the bottle on its side and realizing as he did so that he could possibly be paired with Carson. His twin had yet to be picked, and Kurt couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this before. A part of him kind of hoped he would end up paired with him, if only because it would prevent Carson from being partnered with Santana.

"Spin!" Santana yelled from her spot against the wall. "We ain't got all night. Come on!"

"Ok, ok, calm down, Satan," said Kurt, sighing and closing his eyes as he gave the bottle a good spin, hoping for the best, or at the very least hoping that it wouldn't end up pointing at Finn, who also had yet to be picked. That would be so very awkward, not to mention that Carson would hate it once he heard about it while he was sober. He heard the bottle spin and then stop, and he reluctantly opened his eyes.

The bottle was pointing straight at Carson.

Kurt was pretty sure his heart stopped right then and there as every bit of blood in his body apparently decided that this was an awesome time to rush to his face. He could practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. The room fell into complete silence for a minute as everyone digested the results of his bottle spin, and then Kurt heard Santana cackling across the room. "Oh, this is too good. Ok, Hummels are paired together!"

"Oh, come on Santana, you can't make them partner up together," protested Sam. "They're brothers. That's just wrong, man."

"Nope, sorry," said Santana gleefully. "Rules are rules. Besides, they don't have to even do anything. They can either get their sweet twin kisses on in there, or they can sit and do absolutely nothing. Their choice."

"I kind of want to watch them make out," said Brittany.

Carson seemed to finally register what was going on at that moment and looked confused. "I'm…I go in there with Kurt?" he asked, and it sounded as if his voice lilted slightly at the end of the question, as though he didn't think it was an entirely horrible idea.

"But-" Sam started to protest.

"No, everybody calm down. It's fine," said Kurt, a little too quickly and eagerly. While Santana and Sam had been arguing, he had been thinking over this turn of events. He thought about having the opportunity to be alone with Carson like that, where the nature of the game dictated that everyone _expected_ them to do something. This might be the only chance Kurt would ever have to kiss Carson, if he'd let him, and he'd have the safety net of it being "on a dare."

Plus, even if they didn't end up doing anything, if he went into the closet with Carson, it meant that Santana didn't. Her and Brittany were the only ones left who had yet to take their turn at the bottle, and Kurt didn't like the odds of her landing on his brother. Carson was really uninhibited right now, and Kurt was sure he'd absolutely love a chance to spend seven minutes alone with Santana. The very thought made Kurt want to throw up.

"It's fine," Kurt said again. "Besides, if we don't, all of you are just going to say that we're chicken and then make fun of us all night, so we might as well just do it. What do you think, Carson?"

Carson looked like he was still processing the news, but a small smile formed on his lips. "Yeah…yeah, s'fine. Seven minutes w'Kurt. Awesome."

"See? Kurt's cool with it, and Walter Cronkite over there is too drunk to care," said Santana smugly. Thankfully, everyone's attention was distracted from Kurt and Carson momentarily as the girls finished getting their partners.

"Ok," said Santana once everyone had a partner. "Let's get this show on the road. Linen closet out in the hall is the designated room, and the rest of us hang out in here while you're in there. I will be keeping the time, and I may or may not give you advance warning before I open the door on your asses after your seven minutes are up. Depends on how charitable I'm feeling. So, with that in mind, let's go. Twinsies first," she said, grinning mischievously at Kurt and Carson. "Unless, of course, you've decided you're too chicken after all."

Kurt glared at her. "No, Satan, I think we're good," he said, helping Carson to his feet and taking his arm before he really could chicken out. "We'll see you in seven minutes."

"Have fun in there!" Santana said as she led them out into the hall and into the closet, her eyes lingering on Carson for a second before flicking back to Kurt. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves us with quite the array of options, doesn't it," Kurt mumbled as she shut the door behind them.

_Now what?_ He thought as his eyes adjusted to the dark of the closet. For a linen closet, it was actually pretty roomy, but it was still cramped enough that there was barely an inch or two of space between Kurt's body and Carson's. Kurt could feel himself blushing again, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was too dark and Carson was too drunk for it to be noticed.

"So, um…." Kurt began, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do. Now that he was actually in this situation, it seemed like way less of a good idea than it had out in Santana's living room. "I guess….I guess we're supposed to kiss or something. I mean, it's no big deal or anything. We kissed all the time when we were kids, this….this would be no different. But if you don't want to, we could just stand here until Santana lets us out."

Even in the dark, he could see Carson peering at him curiously. "I…you…kiss?" he asked. "Kiss….kiss you?"

Kurt bit his lip, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. "Well, I mean, it's just a dare, and we don't _have_ to-"

He suddenly realized that Carson's face was a lot closer to his own than it had been a few seconds ago, and his heart went from pounding to jackhammering as he struggled to breathe normally. "We don't have to," he said again, his voice trailing off. "I…we could just…"

Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. Before he even registered what he was doing, Kurt was closing the remaining distance between himself and Carson, and then….

And then there it was. Kurt's eyes were closed and his lips were on Carson's and he was….oh god….he was really doing it. He was kissing him. Kissing. He was_kissing Carson_. And it felt wonderful, like a huge relief after wanting to do it for so long and repressing the desire at every turn. Granted, he'd never imagined doing this in a dark closet with Carson intoxicated and almost the whole glee club just a few rooms away, but still. Despite all of that, he still felt his stomach turn to mush and saw stars exploding behind his eyes as he hungrily kissed his twin. He had no idea if he was even doing this right, but it felt too good for him to really care.

"Mmmph," Carson mumbled against Kurt's lips, and Kurt broke from the kiss to look into his face.

"Oh god, Carson, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I wasn't…I didn't think." With his eyes now adjusted to the dark, he could see that Carson's eyes were hooded and blown almost black, and he was looking at Kurt with the strangest expression on his face.

"Kurt…I…" he began, as if he wanted to say something more. "I lo….I…."

Clearly, he was struggling to say whatever it was. Kurt didn't have time to think about that, though, because suddenly Carson's lips were back on his, their bodies were touching, and they were kissing again. Carson's teeth were nipping at Kurt's bottom lip slightly, and Kurt felt a shiver course through his body at the sensation. His senses were overtaken, his entire world reduced to Carson and Carson's lips, and most importantly, Carson's lips on his. Carson was kissing_him_ now, and Kurt tried not to think about the fact that his twin was drunk and probably didn't even fully comprehend what he was doing right now, because it felt _so_ good.

Kurt didn't know how or when it happened, exactly, but eventually Carson's lips left his mouth and wandered down to his jaw, planting small kisses along there before traveling further down. Kurt felt him settle at a spot just below Kurt's ear and begin to suck, and Kurt couldn't stop the loud moan that escaped his mouth at the feeling. _Oh god, what if everyone heard that, and oh….shit, that's going to bruise, isn't it…I'm going to have a hickey, oh god, I can't…._

"Carson," he panted, pushing lightly at Carson's arms. "Carson…_oh_….Carson, no. S-s-stop."

Carson's lips immediately left his neck and he backed as far away as he could, considering there wasn't much space to move around. "What…what's wrong?" he asked, clearly trying his best to talk without slurring. "Are you ok?"

Kurt looked at him for a second, considering. _Was_ he ok? Well, aside from the fact that he was making out with his own brother in a closet where everybody probably knew they were doing it.

_Exactly_, he thought to himself. _Who cares, really? This is what you've wanted for so long, Kurt. Do you really want to end it early because of what your friends will say_?

He smiled at Carson and took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'm just fine," he said, grabbing the back of Carson's head and colliding their lips together again as he backed Carson up against a shelf full of towels. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they roamed over Carson's chest, pushing the open hoodie aside and feeling the developing muscle through his twin's thin shirt. It felt fantastic. Carson moaned into his mouth and Kurt felt one of his hands settle on his hip, the other traveling down his back until it settled on his ass.

_Oh god! He's touching my ass, oh shit._ Kurt couldn't even breathe. He moved his lips, kissing his way down until they were at the place where Carson's neck met his shoulder. He gave a tentative suck at the skin, and Carson gasped, the hand on Kurt's ass squeezing it through the tight denim.

"Kurt," he whined, and it sounded so much like the noises he made whenever he had a sex dream that Kurt could feel himself getting hard in his jeans.

_Oh shit, oh god, he can probably feel that_, Kurt thought in a panic, trying to put some distance between their groins. He was unsuccessful, considering that there was literally nowhere for him to go, and he felt something hard poking into his thigh that definitely wasn't his own dick. Carson was apparently enjoying this just as much as he was.

"Carson…mmph…" he groaned against his twin's neck, sucking at the skin again, harder this time. Carson moaned and threw his head back, exposing more of his skin for Kurt to explore. Kurt moved his lips around, sucking a kiss into the skin every few inches before returning to Carson's mouth, kissing him much deeper than he had up to this point. He wanted so badly to say "I love you," but he didn't. He couldn't take his lips off Carson's long enough to form the words.

And then every coherent thought left his brain as he felt Carson's hand that had been on his hip slowly travel downwards until his fingers were playing at the waistband of Kurt's jeans.

"Mmmm," he moaned desperately as Carson's fingers brushed up against Kurt's arousal over his jeans, and Kurt swore he felt the world exploding. He kissed him hungrily and bucked his hips into Carson's hand.

And then suddenly the room was filled with a bright light as the door swung open and Santana stood in the doorway, gaping at them.

_Shit._

"Santana!" Carson exclaimed, his cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of red. "I…we…um…we were just..."

Santana crossed her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows at them as she took in their flushed expressions and messy hair. "I have a pretty good idea what you were doing," she said. "I have to say…that's pretty hot."

"Well…it….it was a _dare_, and….the rules…we…" Carson stammered.

Kurt felt his face falling as Carson desperately tried to make excuses in front of Santana. _Of course he is_, he thought sadly. _Of course. He likes her_.

Santana rolled her eyes. "God, Hummel, chillax, will you? I get it. You're hot, Kurt's hot, you're drunk, sometimes shit happens and you end up making out with your brother. Who among us doesn't have an illicit encounter or two under our belts, right? Although, I have to say, I still find this totally hilarious and will_definitely_ make fun of you for it for the rest of your lives. By the way, Diane Sawyer, your hand is still on Kurt's ass."

Carson quickly removed his hands from Kurt and backed away, looking more flustered than ever.

"Anyway, Kurt, it was supposed to be mine and Puckerman's turn next, but apparently he's disappeared to go score more booze," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's entirely possible we won't see him for the rest of the evening. So I'm just gonna borrow your brother, if you don't mind," she said, trying to push Kurt out of the door.

_What the hell? Over my dead body, Satan_.

"What the hell, Santana? No! He's drunk as hell, and I'm not going to let you take advantage of him," Kurt protested, dragging his feet.

"Oh relax, Hummel, calm your balls. I'm not going to break him or anything," Santana said. "I just need a warm body." She gave him a final shove out of the door and shut it behind him.

Kurt slapped his hand against the closed door, jiggling the handle. "Santana, let him out!"

"I will in seven minutes, hon!" she called from behind the door. Kurt didn't even know what to feel.

_He's in there. Alone. With Santana. And he's probably going to love it_, he thought, flushing at the memory of Carson in the middle of a sex dream. Or hell, Carson five minutes ago as Kurt was attacking his neck with his lips. _This isn't fair. She can't do this to me. I…I finally got something I wanted. She can't take it from me like this. Who the fuck does she think she is?_

He wanted to run away and forget this was happening. He also wanted to pound the door down and rescue Carson from her clutches. He didn't do either of those things.

He settled for leaning his ear against the door, trying to make out what was going on in there. Unfortunately, the music in the other room, along with the laughter and chatter of the other kids, made it almost impossible to hear anything.

And then he heard it. An unmistakable moan coming from Santana.

And his heart broke into a million pieces. Especially when Santana finally emerged from the closet with mussed hair and a huge smile directed in Kurt's direction.

He wondered if it was possible to die of a broken heart.

* * *

Carson slumped against the shelf full of towels, trying to make out what the hell had just happened. What was still happening. He remembered kissing Kurt (_and oh my GOD, that was just what he had been waiting for his entire life…._). He remembered Santana coming in and…pushing Kurt out? And now she was all up in his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his head swimming.

"Calm down, Hummel. Just relax. You won't even have to do anything. I'll do all the work. No need to thank me," she said. And then there were lips on his jaw. They were soft lips, but they were also lips he knew he didn't want on him.

"What…what the fuck…eew, no, get off me," he protested, pushing at her arms.

"Seriously? Come on," said Santana, leaning in again. Carson pushed her harder, with all the strength he could muster (which wasn't a lot, since he was still very drunk). It was enough to get her to stop, though.

"I said…said no," he said, rubbing his head. She gave him a disbelieving look and raised her eyebrows.

"So let me get this straight," she said. "You were more than eager to come in here and make out with your own _brother_. Which, judging by the impressive bulges in your pants, you were enjoying quiiiite a bit. You would do that, but you won't make out with me?"

Carson didn't say anything. His head hurt. He wished she would stop talking. Or leave. Yes. Leaving would be awesome.

Santana sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine. But I'm at least going to make it sound good. I have a reputation to uphold, you know," she said.

_Oh my god, will you PLEASE just stop talking, I can't….Kurt….I want Kurt._

He had no idea, really, what was happening for the next few minutes. Santana started banging her fists on the walls and periodically moaning. Carson seriously thought she was having a mental breakdown or something. Then she stopped, attacked her hair briefly with her fingers, and opened the closet door, smiling at Kurt before heading down the hallway toward the living room. Kurt entered the closet, a weird expression on his face that Carson couldn't read. He didn't really care. All that mattered was that it was Kurt.

"Kurt," he groaned, reaching his arms out toward him. "Kurtie."

Kurt reluctantly entered Carson's outstretched arms and gave him a tentative hug.

"Can we go home now?" Carson asked. He felt Kurt nod against him.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go home."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but since I'm finally finished moving and am more settled, I should be back on a regular writing schedule now. No more 10 day gaps between chapters, scout's honor. So let's get on with the chapter (and, as usual, we love and adore our readers, who are all made of candy and rainbows, and whose reviews make us smile and feel happier than Carson when Kurt wears tight jeans). Let's read some Kurson!**

Kurt ended up having to half-carry Carson out to their car after they left Santana's linen closet, Carson clinging to him like a barnacle the entire time as he ran his fingers clumsily across the top of Kurt's hair.

"Your hair is soft," he murmured, as if amazed.

"I try," said Kurt, his mind a million miles away. He was still too busy reeling from everything that had happened in the past half hour to really pay attention. He somehow managed to wrangle Carson into the front seat, which was no small accomplishment, since Carson refused to let go of him, and start to pull the seatbelt around to fasten it around him. Carson's face kept inching closer to his own, making fastening the belt rather difficult.

"Carsey, come on. I can't buckle you in if I can't see what I'm doing," said Kurt as he leaned over his twin and blindly stabbed the belt around looking for the slot.

"You…you're gorgeous," Cason mumbled. His hands rested on Kurt's waist, making Kurt's heart thump in his chest and his face flush what he was sure was a brilliant shade of scarlet. He didn't know how to respond, considering all that had just happened, but he didn't think Carson was listening much anyway. He finally located the slot and fastened Carson's belt, making sure it fit securely before standing back up.

"Game was fun," Carson continued, and then suddenly Kurt felt himself being pulled back down to Carson's level and then…..their lips were touching again, just as they had done earlier in the closet. Carson was kissing him. And it still felt just as wonderful as it had when they were crowded among shelves full of towels and sheets, and-

Ok, that was a tongue. That was Carson's tongue, to be exact, and it was seeking permission to enter Kurt's mouth. Kurt granted it automatically as Carson surged forward to devour him, and the feeling of Carson's tongue sliding against his own made Kurt's brain short-circuit completely. He was drowning. He was sure of it. Drowning in the sea of emotions that were flowing through him as he tried to process what was happening, exactly.

_He's kissing me._

_Oh god, he's KISSING ME. AGAIN._

_He's drunk. He must still think he's playing 7 Minutes in Heaven._

_Maybe even thinks I'm Santana._

_I should make him stop. I should. This is so wrong. But…_

_…But it feels so nice….if I just….if I let him keep on kissing me, then…_

_No. No, we can't do this. Anyone could be watching. Finn could see. He could, and he could tell our parents._

"Mmmph…Ca…Carson," Kurt mumbled against Carson's lips. "Carson, stop."

Carson's lips reluctantly left his and he looked up at Kurt with hazy eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his own lips thoughtfully.

"You taste good, though," he lamented as he let go of Kurt's arms and flopped back against the seat. "So good."

Kurt blushed and patted him gently on the cheek as he stood back up and checked Carson's seatbelt one more time. "I'm sorry, Carsey. We're not playing the game anymore. It's done." He closed Carson's door and went around to the driver's seat, sliding in and starting the engine as Carson reached one hand over and started stroking up and down Kurt's arm through the fabric of his shirt.

"Sooooft Kurtsie," he said with a smile, his fingers dancing across Kurt's arm playfully. "So, so soft."

Kurt gulped and started toward home, trying not to focus on Carson's fingers, and especially not on what they had been about to do before stupid Santana had opened the closet door.

_Carson, I swear, you are going to kill me_.

After what seemed like hours, he finally pulled into the driveway of their new house and stopped the car, helping Carson out and hoping that their dad and Carole had already gone to bed, because Carson was hammered and Kurt wasn't sure what their father's reaction would be to that, but it probably wouldn't be positive. Not to mention that Carson seemed to be unable to stop planting soft little kisses around Kurt's ear, and Kurt's face was practically burning as he half dragged, half carried him up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Come on, Carsey. Let's get you undressed, ok?" Kurt said quietly after they entered the room and he had carefully shut the door. He gently sat Carson down on the bed and began to remove his shoes, getting no further than that before Carson was pulling away and curling up in a ball, his arms outstretched toward Kurt.

"Kuuuuurt," he whined. "Kurtie, let me hold you."

"You have to get dressed for bed, Carson," Kurt whispered. "You won't be comfortable sleeping in those clothes. You need pajamas."

"Don't want pajamas. Want you," said Carson, making grabby hands in Kurt's direction. "Please?"

"Ok, ok, just give me a minute," said Kurt. He settled for carefully removing Carson's hoodie and jeans, figuring he could sleep in his T-shirt and boxers. He changed into his own pajamas as quickly as possible, neatly folding his clothes and placing them on the sofa in the corner of the room. He could hang them up in the morning.

"Kuuuuurt," Carson whined again.

"I'm coming, Carsey," Kurt replied, pulling the covers down and settling into bed, pulling them back down over the two of them.

"Yay, I have my Kurtsie," Carson mumbled happily, wrapping his arms around Kurt and hugging him like a child would hug a teddy bear. "Mmm, you smell nice," he said, burying his nose in Kurt's hair and inhaling deeply. "Like, um…um…that fruit thing…the one with the seeds."

"Watermelon, Carson."

"That's it. You smell like melon water."

Kurt smiled and settled further back into Carson's embrace. "You're so drunk, baby. Go to sleep, ok?"

"Mmm'kay," said Carson. Kurt felt his twin's lips land against his neck, right below his ear, and softly kiss the skin there, causing Kurt to shudder a little.

"I love you, Kurtsie," Carson whispered.

"I love you, too," Kurt replied. _So much, and in ways I shouldn't_, he added silently in his head. _I love you, and I hate myself for it, and I never should have gone into that closet with you, because if you remember any of it in the morning you're probably going to hate me. And I shouldn't be jealous of Santana if she makes you happy, but I am, and I can't even help it, and what's worse is I can't even figure out where my feelings for Blaine fit into all of this. I'm such a screwed up person._

He drifted off into a restless sleep, lulled by the feel of Carson's heavy breathing against his neck.

* * *

Carson slowly opened his eyes the next morning, feeling like he'd been hit by a truck as he tried to piece together the last twelve hours. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he didn't even know where he was at first until he took in the sight of the familiar bedroom furniture and felt the comforting weight of Kurt in his arms.

Kurt.

Oh, fuck.

The events of the previous evening hit his memory like a freight train. He remembered the party and the exhilarating feeling of drinking more than he ever had in his entire life. He remembered Santana suggesting 7 Minutes In Heaven, and hoping he wouldn't be paired with Rachel. He remembered thinking he was dreaming when he was paired with Kurt, and he remembered being crammed into the linen closet with him.

After that, the details were a little fuzzy. They had definitely kissed. Carson remembered that clearly. They had made out, actually, to be more accurate. Carson couldn't remember who had kissed who first, but he definitely remembered that it was wonderful and it felt _so _good, and that there was neck kissing, and he knew he had worried about hickeys. He cast his eyes downward to Kurt's neck and sucked in a sharp inhale of air as he noticed the small, purple blotches scattered around the delicate skin there.

_Those are mine. I did that. I did that to him. God, how drunk was I? What if he was uncomfortable? And after everything that happened with Karofsky. Fuck, Carson, what is wrong with you? Even drunk you should know better. You would be on the warpath if that gel haired hobbit had done that to him._

He remembered being locked in the closet with Santana afterwards, and pushing her away when she tried to kiss him, and her acting like a mental patient on crack. And then Kurt had come back and taken him outside, and….did they kiss again in the car? Carson could have sworn they did, but he couldn't remember if it actually happened or if it was his own wishful thinking.

Kurt stirred in his arms and turned his head to look at him. "Morning, Carsey," he yawned.

"Morning," said Carson, his eyes still drawn to the bruises on Kurt's neck.

"How do you feel?"

"Like death," he said, which was true. His head was throbbing in pain. "My head hurts."

"It's no wonder. You drank like a damn fish last night," said Kurt, getting out of bed and disappearing into their bathroom. "You need Tylenol. I think we have some in here somewhere."

Carson experimentally tried moving his stiff limbs and wondered what Kurt was thinking when he looked into the bathroom mirror. He had to notice those hickeys. Was he mad? Would he be uncomfortable around him now? Carson didn't think he could handle that.

"Here we are," said Kurt as he emerged from the bathroom and stood by Carson's side of the bed, holding two pills and a Dixie cup full of water. "Take these, honey. They'll help your headache, ok?"

Carson obediently swallowed the pills and took the water Kurt handed him. "Thanks," he croaked.

Kurt smiled and patted him on the cheek. "Any time."

"Kurt?" Carson said, taking a deep breath. "Um…last night….in that closet, um…"

Kurt's beautiful eyes clouded over with what looked like worry. "You…you remember?"

"Well, not everything, but…we…um…we kissed, didn't we."

Kurt nodded slowly as he sat down beside Carson. "Yeah. I guess we did," he said.

"You…are you upset?" asked Carson.

Kurt looked slightly surprised. "I…no. No! I'm not upset. It was just….just a game, that was all, but…I thought _you_ might be upset a little."

Carson shook his head. "No, of course not. I thought you might be, because…um…you know….the hickeys."

Kurt paled slightly, but gave him a small smile. "Oh, those. No, those aren't…they aren't a problem, really. Nothing I can't cover up with makeup, and it's scarf season. And I'm…I'm not the only one with hickeys."

"_What?_"

Kurt nodded and reached out a hand, gently stroking at the skin of Carson's neck where it met his shoulder. It hurt.

"Ow," he said, gingerly pressing his own finger into the sensitive flesh. "You did that to me?"

Kurt nodded. "Um, yeah, I….I mean, I think I did. So I guess that makes us even."

Carson smiled and nodded. "Yeah…I guess it does."

Kurt was silent for a moment. "This is the most awkward conversation I think we'll ever have," he said, looking down at the floor.

"So we're just two twin brothers who have made out with each other on a dare. At least this will give us a head start on establishing street cred when we get to college," said Carson.

Kurt snorted. "I can't with you."

"Actually, you did with me," said Carson. "In a closet. Scandalizing all those poor, innocent towels."

Kurt giggled. "Stop!"

Carson smiled and tentatively took Kurt's hand. "Seriously, though, if you felt uncomfortable or weird about this, you would tell me, right?"

Kurt nodded. "Of course. You would tell _me_ if you felt like that…wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I would. And…I…I don't," he said. "Not at all."

Kurt smiled. "Good." His eyes wandered down to Carson's neck. "We should probably cover up our respective hickeys before Dad sees them, though. Or worse, Finn. That's an awkward conversation I do _not_ want to have, ever."

* * *

The last few days of Kurt's school vacation from Dalton went smoothly enough. Carson seemed to have put the closet incident behind him, and things didn't really feel awkward between them, but Kurt was still having a hard time forgetting just how much he enjoyed what had happened. Or, for that matter, how much Carson had clearly been enjoying what had happened, even if he couldn't remember that part (thank _God_). Or how crushed he had felt when Carson had taken a turn with Santana afterwards. That had hurt.

It shouldn't have, but it had.

So Kurt was actually pretty relieved to go back to Dalton after the winter break was over. At Dalton he wouldn't have to be around Carson all day long, and so he wouldn't have to spend long hours sneaking glances at Carson's lips and remembering what they had felt like on his own lips and neck.

His neck. He had covered his hickeys (and Carson's) with concealer as best he could while their family were around, but at night he had taken to removing the makeup first before doing any of the rest of his facial routine. He liked looking at them in the mirror and lightly pressing his fingers into them, feeling the slight tender pain as he did and reminding himself that Carson had made them. Carson had marked him. Maybe not intentionally, since he was drunk out of his mind, but he had. And Kurt would be lying if he said that this didn't turn him on just a little.

A lot, actually. It turned him on a lot.

At Dalton, he had Blaine to distract him from all of that. And Blaine was a pretty good distraction, if Kurt did say so. He was gorgeous, and nice, and charismatic, and actually played for Kurt's team (and, most importantly, wasn't Kurt's brother), and Kurt was falling harder and harder for him as time went on. Kurt wished Blaine would get the hint that he liked him. Then maybe he could have an actual boyfriend and whatever this thing was with Carson could just disappear.

"Hi, Kurt! How was your break?" Blaine asked him on the day Kurt returned, leaning against the doorway of Kurt's dorm room with that disarming smile of his in place.

"It was great," said Kurt, a little breathless at the sight of that smile, as was usual for him.

"Do anything exciting?" asked Blaine.

_Oh, just made out in a closet with my brother, who then proceeded to suck the air out of the lungs of the biggest bitch at McKinley, which kind of made me insanely jealous and sad even though it shouldn't have, because he's my BROTHER and has every right to make out with Santana if he wants._

"Not really," he answered.

Blaine chuckled. "Me either. Just Christmas as usual with my family. I actually spent most of my vacation here at Dalton."

"Oh," said Kurt, not sure what else to say.

"So, anyway, do you want to go get coffee later?" asked Blaine. "I've kind of missed having you around."

Kurt felt his cheeks flush as he gave Blaine a smile. "Yeah! Sure, that would be great!"

Blaine smiled wider and stood up straight. "Good! I'll meet you in the common room later then?"

"Sure," said Kurt. "I'll text you when I'm ready."

Blaine gave him a little wave and disappeared, leaving Kurt to sit down on his bed and wait for his cheeks to return to their normal color. Coffee with Blaine would be wonderful. Just what he needed to distract him from Closetgate.

And…he'd missed having Kurt around? What did that mean, exactly? Did it mean he liked him? If so, was the coffee kind of a date?

He unpacked quickly, suddenly just a little more excited than he had been before.

* * *

With Kurt back at Dalton, Carson was back to spending most of his time being lonely and sad. School started back at McKinley, and he went through the motions, attending his classes and doing his best with his meager two-member Writers' Club, but his heart just wasn't in it. Visiting with Grandma didn't help, since she'd been having more bad days than good ones lately. Home was no sanctuary, since Finn was there, often with Puck in tow, and shutting himself up in his and Kurt's bedroom just reminded him that Kurt wasn't around. There was literally no place for him to go where he felt at peace. The highlight of his day was the dozens of text messages he and Kurt sent back and forth to each other, and their nightly phone call before they went to sleep.

Worst of all, Carson thought, the hickeys on his neck were fading away to nothing. Pretty soon they would be gone, and nothing would remain to remind Carson of that night in the closet with Kurt. He'd developed a habit of pressing on them with his fingers to remind himself they were there, and that Kurt had made them. He hadn't bothered with the concealer stick Kurt had left him before he'd gone back to Dalton, figuring that his hoodies would hide them well enough from anyone who might be looking that closely at him (not that anyone ever really was, except maybe Malerie and her video camera). He liked for them to remain uncovered by makeup so that he could sneak glances at them in the mirror every once in a while. They made him feel like he belonged to Kurt, somehow. It was sort of exhilarating.

But every day they grew just a little bit lighter, and he sometimes thought he would give anything for Kurt to refresh them a little. Just to make them last a little bit longer. He wasn't ready for them to go yet. He missed Kurt that much.

The weekend couldn't ever come fast enough. He usually celebrated his exuberant good mood on Friday mornings by screwing with Finn. Sometimes he did small, petty things like putting a teaspoon of salt into Finn's cereal when he wasn't looking or hiding his shoes. On one occasion, he'd replaced Finn's shampoo with mayonnaise. It took Finn even longer than Carson expected to learn that he had to get up extremely early on Fridays and get through his routine before Carson was awake.

He practically flew out of the school doors on the first Friday of the new semester, eager to go pick up Kurt and spend two whole days catching up and generally just basking in the warm glow of having him around. Five days always felt like too long.

He drove as fast as he dared, pretty much sprinting out of the car when he reached Dalton and bounding into the school's common room, where he usually met up with Kurt. The room was empty that day. Kurt must have been running late. Carson whipped his phone out and dashed off a quick text.

_Kurtsie, where are you? I'm going to worry that Frodo has taken you to his sex dungeon if you're not here soon. –C_

He leaned against the wall in a corner of the room where a bunch of leftover holiday decorations were piled, and waited, mentally planning all the things he and Kurt could do that weekend. Kurt would want to see his friends, of course, and Carson would go with them. Maybe he could come up with some new insults to try out on Rachel. Also, it had snowed recently. Maybe Kurt would be up for another snowball fight. Carson blushed a little, remembering how their last snowball fight had turned out.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize that Kurt had entered the room at first, until he was practically standing right in front of him, an odd expression on his face as he looked around the room, as if to make sure they were alone.

"Kurtsie!" Carson exclaimed, reaching his arms out for a hug. "It's been so long! I was-"

He got no further, because all of a sudden, Kurt's face was close to his own, and….there were lips. Touching. Kurt's lips and his lips. It took several seconds for Carson to register that Kurt was kissing him, and by the time he realized it, Kurt was pulling away.

_What the…did that…..did he….did we just kiss? Again? Why? What's he doing? And HERE, of all places? I don't understand, but…I kind of really want his lips back on me….and what does this mean? Is he…does he…oh god my face is so hot…._

He sucked in a big breath as Kurt stepped back from him looking slight embarrassed and very, very red.

"Kurt?" Carson whispered.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Um…you…you were just standing there, right underneath it, and I…I'm _really_ sorry, but I just couldn't resist."

Carson blinked, confused. "What?"

Kurt pointed up to something above Carson's head. Carson looked up and saw a sprig of leaves tied with a red ribbon hanging out from the corner of a stack of boxes, right above where he was currently standing.

Mistletoe. He'd been standing under mistletoe. He looked around at all the holiday decorations surrounding him that had yet to be put away for the year, and realized what had happened. He'd unwittingly stood under the plant, and Kurt had been unable to stop himself.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Oh, yeah, I…that's really funny, Kurt," he said, forcing a smile and trying to hide his disappointment. "You make out with me once and now you're an uncontrollable kissing machine. I see how it is."

Kurt snorted and punched him playfully on the arm. "Shut up. You were standing under mistletoe. _Someone_ had to take advantage of that."

Carson ruffled Kurt's hair, earning him a protesting squeak from his twin, and took a hold of Kurt's bag with one hand and Kurt's arm with the other.

"Come on, Kurtsie. Let's go home."

* * *

"Ok, I'm all for flair, but these Valentine's Day decorations are just tacky," said Kurt, picking up a stuffed heart pillow on which sat two stuffed red and white puppies kissing each other. He and Blaine were in line in front of the counter at the Lima Bean, having yet another coffee date (which were becoming much more frequent, much to Kurt's delight), and the Lima Bean had recently set out their assortment of various gaudy Valentine decorations in preparation of the upcoming holiday. Kurt had never been much of a fan of Valentine's Day (especially since he'd never actually had a Valentine before, unless he counted Carson), and even less of a fan of the decorations.

"I mean, what the hell is this supposed to be?" he continued, indicating the kissing puppies. Blaine grinned down at it.

"It's clearly puppy love," he said, taking the pillow out of Kurt's hands. "It's cute. Come on!" He handed it back to Kurt, accidentally pressing a button at the base that caused the puppies to make an obnoxious kissing sound, followed by a high-pitched, squeaky "I love you!"

"Adorable," said Blaine.

"Ok, this creepy," said Kurt, putting the pillow back where he had found it. "It's a simple excuse to sell candy and greeting cards on a holiday." _Wow, I sounded just like Carson just then. He'd be so proud of me._

"Not true," said Blaine, shaking his head. "People have been celebrating Valentine's Day for centuries. And call me a hopeless romantic, but it's my favorite holiday."

It was? This was news. Kurt looked at him quizzically.

"Really?"

"I think there's something really great about a day where you're encouraged to just lay it all on the line and say to somebody, "I'm in love with you." You know?" replied Blaine. Kurt couldn't help but notice that he directed that last part right at him, and he felt his cheeks becoming rosy. He would have to work on this blushing problem of his.

"And this year, I want to do something really radical, so I need your opinion on this," Blaine continued as they moved further up the line. He took a deep breath and Kurt focused his attention on him.

"There's this guy that I sort of…like," said Blaine quietly. "And I've only known him for a little while, but I want to tell him that I think my feelings are starting to change into something…deeper."

Kurt felt more and more blood rushing to his face as he listened to this speech with rapt attention. Blaine was talking about him. He _had_ to be. Normally, Kurt wouldn't bother reading so much into something like this, but…it was the only thing that made sense. Right? He _had_ to be talking about Kurt.

_Oh god, what if he IS? What do I do? What do I say? Do I even say anything? Carson would freak out. He wouldn't like this at ALL. And am I really ready for a relationship right now, especially with how I feel about Carson? I mean, I know I kind of wanted this, but now…now I don't even know…Oh…Blaine is still talking. Pay attention, Kurt._

"So I have to ask," Blaine continued, "Do you think it's too much to sing to somebody on Valentine's Day?"

_Ok, yes. Yes, I want this._

"Not at all," Kurt answered breathlessly, squealing inside his own brain while trying to hide his excitement at the same time.

"What can I get you?" the girl behind the counter asked Blaine as they finally reached the front of the line.

"A medium drip and a grande nonfat mocha for this guy," he replied, indicating Kurt, "and maybe I can get him to split one of those Cupid cookies."

"You know my coffee order?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"Of course I do," Blaine replied, pulling money out of his wallet to hand to the cashier. "Don't even bother, dummy," he added as Kurt reached for his own wallet. "It's on me."

_He knows my coffee order. He's paying for that coffee order. I think this is a date. I'm pretty sure he wants to sing his feelings to me for Valentine's Day. Is this real life? I'm never this lucky_.

"I do believe I have a new favorite holiday," he said quietly to the cashier once Blaine was out of earshot.

_Oh, but Carson isn't going to like this._

* * *

It took Kurt approximately one day to start doodling hearts that said things like "Kurt Anderson," "Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson" and "Kurt loves Blaine" all over every blank piece of paper he came across. Maybe it was just a little bit stupid, but he couldn't help it. Every once in a while, he wondered what Carson might say if he ever came across one of those doodles and felt a pang in his chest. He knew his twin wouldn't like it, because he didn't like Blaine.

He was working on one of those doodles in one of Dalton's study rooms the next afternoon when Blaine sauntered up to him excitedly.

"Hey!" he said. "Whatcha doin'?" Kurt quickly slammed his notebook shut so that Blaine wouldn't see the carefully drawn heart.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just, uh….daydreaming. Plotting weekend outfits."

"Well, come on," said Blaine. "You're gonna want to see this. I've called an emergency meeting of the Warblers Council."

"Sounds serious," said Kurt, getting up from his chair and slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked beside Blaine.

"Let's hope not," Blaine replied, gripping Kurt's shoulders and leading him toward the Warblers practice room. "I just need to ask them a tiny, little favor."

That "tiny, little favor" turned out to be asking the Warblers to (metaphorically) help rip Kurt's heart out and stomp on it until it was nothing but pulp. Because the guy Blaine wanted to sing to for Valentine's Day was the junior manager at the freaking Gap. Kurt literally felt his dreams deflating like a popped balloon when he heard the words come out of Blaine's mouth. He heard them, but he didn't want to believe them. In fact, he was pretty confused for a moment, wondering what the hell Blaine was talking about, because Kurt didn't work at the Gap, but then the truth sank in.

He had gotten his hopes up for nothing. Blaine didn't like him like that. He never had. And as if that weren't enough, Kurt was expected to help do the singing with the rest of the Warblers. He would have to stand there and watch as Blaine serenaded another guy, and he would have to pretend he was happy to do it because he had been the one to help convince the rest of the Council to help Blaine.

_At least I don't have to worry about what Carson will say_, he thought miserably as he crumpled one of his doodles in his room that night and tossed it angrily into his trash can.

* * *

The "Gap Attack," as Blaine had dubbed it during the Warblers Council meeting, was a complete disaster, both for Kurt and for Blaine. Not only did Kurt have to stand there and watch as Blaine serenaded his crush, Jeremiah, with the most blatantly sexual song ever written ("You can keep your toys in the drawer tonight" was _not_ exactly subtle), but after all that, the guy outright rejected Blaine afterwards. Not that Kurt could blame him, really. Blaine _did_ get him fired, after all. Kurt still felt bad for Blaine, though. He knew perfectly well what the bitter sting of rejection felt like, and it didn't feel good. Blaine wasn't quite so eager to wax poetic about how cute and adorable the Lima Bean decorations were anymore.

And then, after Kurt finally screwed up enough courage to confess to Blaine that he'd thought it was _him_ that Blaine had wanted to sing to, Blaine had basically friend-zoned him right then and there. The only thing Kurt would be doing on Valentine's Day would be singing with the Warblers at Breadstix.

It had been a long week. He looked forward fervently to the weekend, when he could be with Carson and forget that his life sucked.

* * *

Something was bothering Kurt. Carson could tell. He wasn't his usual bubbly self when Carson arrived to pick him up from Dalton that Friday, and the hug he wrapped Carson in when he saw him in the Dalton common room was slightly tighter than normal.

"I missed you," he murmured into Carson's neck, his breath hot against the skin.

"Missed you too, Kurtsie," Carson replied, hugging him back. "It's been a long week. Finn's been running a _kissing booth_, of all things, right in the middle of the hallway. I've had to find alternate routes to and from my classes all week to avoid vomiting. It's been difficult."

Kurt laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "Oh, Carsey. Poor baby."

"Yes, poor me indeed. Not to mention that I've missed you _so_ much. So, how has your week been?" Carson asked as he walked Kurt out to the car.

"It's…it's been good," said Kurt quietly, clinging to Carson with one arm and kicking a rock in front of him as he walked. "Busy. You know. The usual."

"Ok, what's wrong?" Carson asked him. "You sound sad."

"Nothing," said Kurt, plastering what Carson could tell was a fake smile across his face. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Kurt, I know you better than that. Something is bugging you, and I hate to see those beautiful blue eyes looking so depressed, so out with it. It's not…I mean, no one is messing with you again, are they? Like Karofsky did? Because if they are, when that stupid school is supposed to be all safe and shit, I will…"

"No, Carson! Really. I just…it's been a long week. Lots of homework and stuff," said Kurt as he entered the car and fastened his seatbelt. "I'm really fine. I would tell you if I was being bullied again. I promised I would. I'm just tired. So much….so much schoolwork."

Carson knew he was lying (not about the bullying…Kurt really had promised him he wouldn't ever keep a secret like that from Carson again, and Carson knew he meant it), but he decided to let it go for now. He didn't want to spend the precious little time he had with Kurt arguing with him, and besides, he could probably coax the problem out of him eventually.

So they went about their weekend, with Kurt continuing to be quiet and moody. The only thing that seemed to cheer him up all weekend was when Carson let him style his hair and dress him in what he called "casual chic."

"It's just like your regular look, only a little more…stylish," Kurt had said happily after Carson changed into the fitted button-up shirt and tight jeans his twin had handed him to wear. "See? Look in the mirror."

Carson had, and admittedly, what he saw wasn't horrible, but he still knew there was no way he could wear it every day, especially not combined with the pounds of product Kurt had glopped into his hair. But it was making Kurt happy, so he smiled and nodded.

"And those pants kind of make your ass look awesome," Kurt had added with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows. Carson had made a thoroughly undignified noise as he choked on air.

"Thanks," he had said as he ducked his head away from the mirror so Kurt couldn't see his flaming face.

"You're going right back to your hoodies , aren't you?"

"Yep."

"Thought so."

Other than that, Kurt was pretty sad-looking all weekend. Carson lay awake for a good chunk of Saturday night holding a sleeping Kurt, gently stroking his hair and wondering what could possibly be bothering him. It wasn't bullies. He knew that much. Maybe something to do with the Warblers? Kurt had complained before about his solo situation at Dalton being basically the same as it had been at McKinley, which is to say, he never got any. Maybe he'd been turned down for another solo, Carson thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Sunday dawned cold and rainy, and Carson didn't wake up until well after noon, still holding Kurt in his arms. Kurt was deeply asleep, and Carson hated to wake him, but he had to be back at Dalton before nighttime, and Carson knew Kurt would want plenty of time to pack up and get himself ready.

"Kurtsie," he whispered softly, leaning his face over Kurt's ear. "Kurtsie, wake up, baby." He planted a soft kiss to the tip of Kurt's ear as he spoke. Kurt stirred and grumbled, burrowing further into Carson's embrace.

"Don't wanna get up," he mumbled shifting himself around and burying his face in Carson's chest. "Wanna stay here forever."

Carson smiled. "I wish you could, too. I'd like it. Let's both of us stay here in bed for the rest of our lives."

"Can't, though," Kurt said, his voice muffled by Carson's shirt. "Got school."

"Ugh, yes. School," said Carson. "I have to go to the torture chamber known as McKinley tomorrow, and you have to pack your stuff and go back to that creepy place where I'm still pretty convinced that your Stepford friend Billy has a secret sex dungeon."

"Mmmph," Kurt murmured. "Pleeease, don't mention Blaine to me."

"Why?" Carson asked, instantly alarmed. "Has he done something to you? _Has he_? Do I need to go over to that school and kick him in the nuts? Because-"

"Ugh, _no_, Carson," said Kurt, his face still buried in Carson's chest as one fist clutched at the loose fabric of Carson's shirt. "I just….I don't want to talk about it."

"Ok, now you kind of _have to_ talk about it," said Carson. "Because I'm going to assume the worst if you don't. Is he the reason you've been moping around all weekend? What's he done to you? I have to know so that I can properly assess how much damage I need to cause to his body."

Kurt sighed and looked up at Carson, his eyes blinking back the remnants of sleep. "You're not going to understand."

"Try me," said Carson, his heart thudding in his chest. What the fuck had that hobbit done to Kurt to make him so depressed? _If he put one dapper finger on him or tried to take advantage of him, I swear to god he will be EATING all that fucking hair gel he uses_…

"Please, Kurt. Talk to me."

Kurt took a deep breath and just started pouring his heart out, not even stopping for breath as he told Carson an incredible tale of Valentine decorations and coffee orders and council meetings and extremely inappropriate serenades at the Gap. Carson was horrified. What the hell kind of moron was this guy that he would pass up Kurt, who _clearly_ liked him (even though Carson couldn't understand why), for some guy way too old for him who wasn't even interested?

Not that Carson would have been any happier if Blaine _had_ been planning to serenade Kurt, but, still. _Who the fuck would reject Kurt? Kurt is a perfect angel, and SOME of us would give anything for Kurt to be head over heels for them. Who the hell rejects that for some guy at the fucking Gap?_

"And right now I guess he just wants to be friends," said Kurt miserably. He had shifted so that he was laying between Carson's legs facing away from him, his head resting against his twin's chest. "And I feel like such an idiot for even thinking that he liked me like that, and I just….I don't know. Am I stupid for thinking that? Should I have known he wasn't talking about me that day in the coffee shop?"

"No," said Carson fiercely, wrapping his arms around Kurt's chest. "Definitely not. You are _not_ stupid. Actually, Bobby is kind of stupid. Actually, he's _very_ stupid. He was being all flirty with you and he acts like it's a big fucking surprise that you think that means he likes you? What the fuck? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and he basically just threw that opportunity away. And on top of that, he got that Gap guy fired. I mean, what the fuck? What would possess him to think showing up at this guy's workplace and singing a song like that was in any way ok? If it was you he'd done that to, I'd be out for his blood. I kind of want to strangle him for making you so sad, but honestly, I'm also pretty relieved that it wasn't you he was after. I would never want you with someone so fucking idiotic. You deserve so much better, Kurtsie."

Kurt nodded before craning his neck up to look at Carson. "It hurts, though."

"Oh, baby, I know. I know it hurts. It always hurts when the person you like doesn't like you back," said Carson, hugging Kurt tighter and kissing his hair. "But there's someone out there who loves you the way you deserve, I promise."

_Like me. Right here, Kurtsie. Right here. I'll always love you, no matter what. Nobody can ever love you the way I do, believe me. No matter how much they try._

_Also, the next time I see that stupid gel-haired freak, it's going to take all my self-control not to kick his ass for making you sad._

The next time Carson saw him turned out to be on Valentine's Day, at Breadstix. Kurt had begged Carson (along with the entire McKinley glee club) to go to what he called a Lonely Hearts Dinner. Carson hadn't wanted to go, but Kurt had pouted. Besides, it would be an opportunity to see Kurt before the weekend, and it was a dinner at which the Warblers were performing. Or, more specifically, Blaine performed and Kurt and the rest of the Warblers were glorified background dressing. Carson was less than impressed, especially every time Blaine ventured out into the "audience" and stopped at various people's tables. When he paid a visit to the small table Carson was sharing with Santana, Carson made sure to give him his best glare. He considered sticking a foot out and tripping him, but decided against it. Kurt wouldn't like that.

_Seriously, why the fuck isn't Kurt singing lead on this thing? He'd do such a good job on it. And be less obnoxious. Also, hobbit, I'm watching you. You may say that you only want to be friends with Kurt right now, but how do I know that's not some weird plot to get Kurt's guard down so that you can take advantage of the fact that he likes you? I still don't trust you at all._

When the song finally ended, Carson clapped as enthusiastically as he could, for Kurt's sake. "Good job, Kurt!" he exclaimed, ignoring the weird look Santana gave him. Kurt hurried over to their table and threw his arms around Carson.

"Thanks for coming," he said. "I know you were _less than thrilled_ to go," he said, emphasizing his words in Santana's direction for some reason. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Get a room," she said, and went off to talk to Sam, who was sitting by himself nearby.

"Anything for you, Kurtsie," said Carson, trying his best to ignore what Santana had said. "Only for you would I subject myself to a performance by your weird little munchkin friend. By the way, I still don't know what you see in him."

"Oh, Carson," said Kurt, patting him playfully on the cheek. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You could be my Valentine," suggested Carson. "And in exchange, I totally volunteer to be yours."

"Hmm," said Kurt, pretending to think it over. "True. You don't have one, I don't have one. It'd be perfect. Know what? I'd be thrilled to be your Valentine."

Carson grinned. "Likewise. Although I do think I'm getting the better deal here. Who wouldn't want you for their Valentine?"

"Apparently a lot of people," Kurt said, his eyes clouding over a little as they traveled in Blaine's direction.

"Hey," said Carson, gently taking his hand. "Hey, none of that, now. Remember, anyone who would reject you doesn't deserve you anyway."

Kurt smiled and leaned down, planting a kiss on Carson's forehead. "Love you, Valentine."

Carson smiled back. "Love you, too."

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure what possessed him to think attending a party at Rachel Berry's house would be a good idea. Probably pure, morbid curiosity. After all, casually hanging out with her and Mercedes in Rachel's room every once in a while was one thing. Rachel trying to throw an actual party with alcohol and everything was something else entirely. Kurt couldn't wait to see what her idea of a wild teenage party consisted of. Of course, he hadn't actually been invited, which he thought was pretty rude of Rachel, considering how friendly they'd become, but thankfully Kurt had caught a traumatizing glimpse of Finn's browser history and had offered him a "Either I go to the party too or Carole gets a detailed list of every freaky porn site you've ever visited" deal.

He'd invited Blaine along, even though he was still stinging a little from the Valentine's Day rejection. Sure, Blaine only wanted to be friends. They could totally go to Rachel's party as friends, right? No strings. Carson had insisted on coming too, since Blaine was going.

"I don't care if it's a lame-ass Rachel Berry party. I still don't trust that hobbit as far as I can throw him, and I sure as hell don't want him around you when there's alcohol involved," had been Carson's answer when Kurt had asked him why the hell he would subject himself to a Rachel party. "Besides, I only get the weekends with you anymore, so if I don't go, then I'm missing out on time with you."

So that was how Kurt found himself descending Rachel's basement stairs on a Friday night, followed closely by Carson and Blaine, with Finn bringing up the rear.

"Welcome!" said Rachel brightly when they arrived, her face falling a little when she saw the three extra people with Finn. "Kurt…Carson…Blaine…I wasn't expecting you guys," she said tentatively.

"Kurt's been blackmailing me ever since he saw my browser history," Kurt heard Finn say quietly to Rachel. "He kind of insisted on coming."

"Yeah, Trollberry, he should have been invited in the first place," spoke up Carson. "He's your friend, or so you claim."

"I didn't think he would want to come," said Rachel.

"I'm totally off the clock right now, Rachel," said Blaine, taking off his heavy coat. "I'm not a Warbler. I'm just Blaine. I'm not even wearing my uniform."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Don't think anyone asked, and we're not blind," he muttered under his breath.

"So, this is your dads' Oscar room," said Kurt brightly, changing the subject before Carson could get in any more digs at Blaine. He looked around the finished basement room, where the rest of the glee club were already situated, looking bored out of their minds.

"Yes. They transformed our ordinary basement for our famous annual Oscar parties," Rachel replied, taking everyone's coats.

"Is that a stage?" Blaine asked, pointing at the stage in the middle of the room.

"No, it's a banana," Carson mumbled. Kurt elbowed him in the ribs.

"I kind of like to give impromptu performances for our neighbors sometimes," said Rachel.

"Oh my GOD," Kurt heard Carson mutter. "I'm _so_ fucking happy we're not her neighbors."

Once Puck had convinced Rachel to open up her dads' liquor cabinet instead of limiting everyone to wine coolers, the party finally got underway. Kurt had decided not to drink, despite the fact that he didn't have to drive. He thought it would be best to stay sober just in case any opportunities to impress Blaine presented themselves. Granted, Blaine _was_ drinking, and wasn't really even paying Kurt much attention, but still. Couldn't hurt.

Carson, on the other hand, did exactly what he had done the last time he was at a party, which was to consume as much alcohol as he possibly could.

"Kuuuursey," he slurred after his fourth or fifth drink, slinging one arm around Kurt. "We…we should go to parties like this, like….aaaaaall th'time. Hey…hey hob..hobbie…Hoggle…hey Hoggle!" he shouted over the music, sauntering over to Blaine and patting him on the head, where his dark curls had come loose from his hair gel. "Hey…you really do have hair! I thought…I thought it was like…like a helmet or somethin'….but no….it's hair…I didn't know that hob..hog…didn't know hogwarts had hair," he said. "That…that'd just great….I don' like you. You're weird."

Blaine, who had looked at him in confusion the whole time he was talking, and had easily drunk just as much as Carson had, snapped his fingers and pointed at Carson. "Hey, did you know that Finn and Kurt are brothers?" he asked.

Carson had apparently decided that he'd had enough of that conversation, because he turned back to Kurt and threw his arms around him, draping them lazily over Kurt's shoulders. "I love youuu, Kurrrtie," he cooed. "I really do. And you look…look soooo good in red."

Kurt closed his eyes and prayed that no one would suggest a game of 7 Minutes In Heaven this time.

"LET'S SPIN THE BOTTLE!" yelled Rachel right at that moment.

_Shit._

* * *

All Carson was aware of was that he was feeling really good as everyone gathered in a circle to play Spin The Bottle. He knew on some level that he probably shouldn't play, considering what had happened at Santana's party, but he was too drunk to really care about the possible consequences right then. Alcohol was so awesome. Why didn't everyone drink it, like, all the time?

"Excuuuuse me," he said, wedging himself between Kurt and Blaine on the floor, only vaguely aware of the murderous look Kurt shot him. "Next to Kurt's always…always MY spot, ok? Ok, hobby…hobbit…ok hobbit?" he said, waving his party cup in Blaine's face.

Blaine patted him awkwardly on the arm. "Sorry, Kurt," he said.

"M'not Kurt," said Carson shaking his arm free of Blaine's hand. "And don't touch me."

The game started, using one of the many empty bottles from the night, and Carson barely paid attention to who was kissing who. He didn't really care, and he was too busy focusing on drinking the rest of the liquid in his cup without spilling it. He wasn't really aware of much at all until he heard Kurt inhale sharply next to him. He followed Kurt's line of sight to his other side, where Blaine and Rachel were busy kissing like their lives depended on it.

Oh. So that was why Kurt looked like he wanted to kill something.

"Eeeeew," he said, looking on disgustedly as Blaine and Rachel continued kissing. "That's so gross…both of you…stop it…no one wants to see….to see a troll and a hobbit kissing, ok? It's just gross."

"Ok, I think we've had enough of that," said Kurt pointedly. Blaine and Rachel finally stopped kissing, and then it was Santana's turn to spin.

"Gimme that damn bottle," she said, leaning over and spinning it as hard as she could. Carson went back to his cup and tuned out, not even realizing that her spin had landed on him until she was yanking the cup out of his hand and grabbing the back of his head, crashing their lips together.

_Eeeew, eeeew, no, get it off, get it off, don't want_.

"Mmmph," he mumbled, trying to pull away. "Ok, enough!" he said, yanking his face away and inching closer to Kurt, clinging to him as if he were a life preserver. Santana shrugged and took her place in the circle again.

"Who's next?" Rachel crowed.

"Me," spoke up Kurt. Carson looked at him, wanting to protest but unable to find the words. He could only watch as Kurt leaned over, a determined look on his face, and spun the bottle.

And it landed right on him.

* * *

_Oh god, why the hell did I even spin the damn bottle? _thought Kurt as he watched the bottle stop spinning and point right at Carson. _I'd JUST started getting over 7 Minutes In Heaven_.

The night was turning out to be a complete disaster. First Rachel had kissed Blaine, and both of them looked like they'd enjoyed it way too much. Then Santana had kissed Carson, and Kurt really couldn't tell which of those kisses he was more upset about. Blaine practically devouring Rachel's face was upsetting and hurtful for a lot of reasons, and Santana kissing Carson just plain ignited Kurt's jealousy fuse.

_At least he pulled away fairly quickly. He was probably upset because she's clearly with Sam at the moment. My poor baby._

And now fate wasn't done laughing at Kurt, apparently, because he was about to kiss Carson. Again. In front of people this time. In front of _Blaine_. What would people think? What would Blaine think? Would he even think anything? He was pretty drunk, and making puppy eyes at Rachel at the moment, so maybe not.

"Woooo!" shouted Santana. "Hummels are gonna get their mack on for us. Kiss him, Kurt. Suck the air out of his lungs!"

Kurt glared at her. "Shut up, Satan," he snapped. He looked around the circle. Other than Santana, who was waggling her eyebrows at them, and Finn, who looked extremely uncomfortable, almost everyone's faces ranged from mildly interested to bored. Blaine wasn't even paying any attention at all. He was still staring at Rachel.

"Kiiiiisss," said Santana, chewing on the straw in her party cup.

_Ok, Kurt, just do it and try to make it quick, no matter how much you enjoy it._

Kurt sighed. Before he could lose his nerve, he turned to Carson, locking eyes with him briefly. If he saw any sign of hesitation in his twin, he wasn't going to do it. Seeing none, he closed in and pressed their lips together, kissing him softly. It was positively electric, just like it had been every time they'd done this, even the time Kurt had quickly kissed him when Carson had been accidentally standing under that mistletoe at Dalton. Kurt hadn't been able to resist that invitation, and he'd just _had_ to know what it felt like to kiss Carson while his twin was sober. Thrilling, it turned out.

And now here they were, kissing in front of the entire glee club, not to mention Blaine, and Kurt had kind of stopped caring about that now, because time had stood still and all he could focus on were Carson's lips. How they were slightly chapped but still feathery soft, and how they tasted of a mixture of salt and whatever Carson had been drinking all night, but were still heavenly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that they had been kissing for just a little longer than would be considered necessary for a game like this, but he was having a really hard time caring.

And then a catcall from Santana reminded Kurt where he was, and he regretfully parted from the kiss, noting briefly that Carson's eyes were hooded and his mouth stayed slightly parted for a few seconds before he shook his head and closed it.

"That was so hot," he heard Brittany murmur from across the circle.

"Wanky," said Santana. Finn shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at the twins. Kurt chanced a glance at Blaine, and discovered that the curly haired boy was _still_ exchanging looks with Rachel and hadn't even paid any attention to what had just happened.

_Small favors, I guess. Praise Finn's magical sandwich_.

"It's Carson's turn," said Santana, grinning evilly. "Spin that bottle, Barbara Walters. Let's see who you have to lock lips with next."

Kurt glared at her again and crossed his arms. "He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, Santana," he snapped. "You're not in charge of this game."

"Wait...no…gimme the bottle," said Carson, leaning over and batting at it weakly. Kurt watched nervously as it spun, praying it wouldn't land on Santana. _I don't think I can handle her kissing him again. And Carson would NOT want to kiss anyone else here. Maybe it will land on me. That would be best. That would spare him from having to kiss anyone he can't stand…._

The bottle stopped and pointed, to Kurt's horror, at Blaine. He looked over at Carson, who was squinting at the bottle, too drunk to immediately register where it had landed. _Oh, he's going to hate this. I'M going to hate it. This is too screwed up._

"Fucking _wanky_," said Santana. "Pucker up, Hummel number one. You have to kiss Prep Boy!" she exclaimed gleefully.

"Santana, he can't kiss Blaine," said Mercedes, looking nervously at Kurt.

"Huh?" spoke up Blaine, finally looking away from Rachel. "Someone say my name?"

"You have to kiss Carson, Blaine Warbler," said Brittany. "The bottle said so."

Blaine looked confused. "Wait, what?"

"You," said Santana, pointing to Blaine, "and him," she continued, pointing at Carson, "have to kiss. So kiss. I require amusement."

Blaine shrugged and started leaning toward Carson. Carson seemed to finally register what was about to happen and stood up as if he were on fire, stumbling a little and gripping Kurt's shoulder for balance.

"No…eeew…oh fuck no…I…no…I…I think…I think I have….the runs," he stammered, backing away from the circle and running toward Rachel's basement stairs, tripping over his own feet several times. He didn't quite make it up the stairs, stopping about halfway up and just sprawling there, shaking his head.

"No…oh god, no…would rather kiss a spider…" he mumbled.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. _Poor Carson. Why do I continue to attend parties? Why do I continue to let Carson come with me to parties? Why is any of this happening at a Rachel party, of all places? I was so sure that all that would happen tonight was building a jigsaw puzzle or something._

The night wore on. Kurt managed to coax Carson down from the stairs and kept him by his side for the rest of the party, which was seemingly just fine with his twin, who clung to Kurt like his life depended on it, practically sitting in his lap.

"That…that was scary, Kuuursey," he kept mumbling, his arms wrapped around Kurt's neck. "Don' let him kiss me….don't wanna kiss a hobbit…"

"I know, Carson. It's over," Kurt soothed. He watched, unamused, as Blaine and Rachel got up on Rachel's stage and starting singing a drunken rendition of Human League's "Don't You Want Me." They certainly weren't holding back on the flirtiness. Why the _hell_ was Blaine looking at Rachel like that?

_God, can this night END already?_

Thankfully, the party finally started to wind down, and Kurt was only too eager to leave. He'd gathered up his coat in one hand and Carson's arm in the other, prepared to finally go home and forget the whole horrible night, when he noticed Blaine stumbling around in the corner of the basement.

_Shit, I forgot. He can't drive back to Dalton like that. He's too drunk._

Kurt sighed and walked over to Blaine, tapping him on the shoulder until Blaine focused and looked at him.

"I think…I think her last name is Berry because her lips taste like a berry," he murmured happily to Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"That's nice, Blaine. Hey, come home with us for the night, ok? You can't drive."

Carson furrowed his brow at Kurt and shook his head. "Whaaat…no….Kur..Kurt…he can't stay with us."

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Carson, he has to. He can't go home in that condition."

Carson narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"

"Carson!" Kurt said. "Stop, ok? He's coming home with us and that's that."

By some miracle, Kurt managed to get both boys out of Rachel's house and into the car, settling Blaine into the backseat while Carson insisted on sitting in the front.

"Front seat's mine," he mumbled, crossing his arms. "Miiine."

"Yes, Carson. Yours," agreed Kurt, getting into the driver's seat and starting for home. Thankfully, his dad and Carole seemed to have gone out for the evening, so he didn't have to worry about parental interruptions as he led two extremely drunk boys up the stairs to his and Carson's room.

"Ok," said Kurt as they entered the room. "Carson and I have the bed, and Blaine, you can sleep on the…"

He cut himself off as he watched Blaine wander over to the bed and collapse on Carson's usual side.

"…sofa," he finished weakly, glancing over at Carson, who looked pissed.

"Kuuuuurt," he whined. "Your hobbit is on my side of the bed. Make him leaaaaave. I wanna go to beeeeeed."

Kurt sighed. _Why me?_ he thought as he walked over to Blaine and gently shook his shoulders with no results. "Blaine," he said, shaking him harder. "Blaine, get up."

Blaine mumbled incoherently, but didn't stir. He clearly wasn't moving from his spot. Kurt glanced over at Carson apologetically.

"He's passed out, Carsey," he said gently. "I, um….I don't think he's going to move."

Carson shook his head. "No, he _has_ to. He is _not_ sleeping with you. Fuck that." He stalked over to Blaine and weakly grabbed at his feet, trying to yank him off the bed but only managing to remove his shoes. "Help me," he said to Kurt. "Just….help me."

Kurt sighed and placed himself near Blaine's head, grasping him under the arms as Carson took hold of his legs. They barely managed to lift him an inch off the bed. Blaine was dead weight, and Carson was too drunk.

"It's not going to work, Carson," Kurt said, letting Blaine flop back down on the bed. Carson crossed his arms and frowned, sitting down on the sofa.

"But I don't want him to sleep next to you," he grumbled. "Don't trust him. He's all drunk and shit."

"He's passed out, Carson."

"Don't caaaaare," Carson whined.

Kurt assessed the situation quickly. He kind of really wanted to sleep next to Blaine, even if Blaine _was_ passed out cold, because when was he ever going to get a chance like that again? But if it was going to make Carson that uncomfortable, would it really be worth it?

"Ok, how about if you sleep on my side of the bed, and I'll take the sofa?" Kurt asked. "I know you don't like him, but at least this way you don't have to worry about him being next to me. Ok?"

Carson looked like he was considering this for a minute, but shook his head. "No…no Kurt…sofa's not comfortable," he said. "You'll sleep better on the bed. I'll take the sofa."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, biting his lip. Carson nodded.

"Yeah…s'fine. But I'll be awake the whooooole time and if…if he so much as puts a finger on you, I'mma cut it off."

Kurt rolled his eyes and snorted. "Oh, Carsey." He leaned down and kissed Carson's forehead. "I'm going to change into my pajamas. Can I trust you to stay in here with Blaine alone for five minutes without shaving his head or something?"

"That," said Carson, pointing one finger in the air, "is an _excellent_ idea."

"Carson."

"Ok, ok, he's safe with me. Go get changed."

Kurt changed in the bathroom as quickly as he could and stepped back into the bedroom, tentatively climbing into the bed beside Blaine. It felt really weird. He'd never shared a bed with someone he had a crush on before. Well…unless you counted Carson, that is. He glanced over at his twin, who was sprawled out on the sofa, still fully dressed.

"You're sure this is ok with you, right?" Kurt asked.

"It's not, but you'll be more comfortable there," Carson mumbled. "That's all that matters."

Kurt nodded. "Ok. Goodnight, Carsey. I love you."

"Love you too, Kurtsie," said Carson. "Hands where I can see them at all times, please."

Kurt rolled his eyes and waved his hands exaggeratedly in Carson's direction. "They're right here, Carson. Not touching anything but blankets. Ok?"

"Good. Goodnight, Kurtsie."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Despite his vow to stay awake the whole night watching out for shenanigans from Blaine, Carson apparently had drifted off at some point. He woke up to sun streaming through the windows, his head pounding and his back aching.

"Fuuuuuck," he mumbled, holding his head. "I'm never drinking again." He sensed that something wasn't quite right, and it took him a minute to figure out that it was because he was on the sofa, fully dressed.

_Right. I slept here because Kurt was sharing the bed with…oh, fuck is he still here?_Carson glanced over at the bed. Kurt was gone, and there was a mop of dark, curly hair and a hand peeking out from under the covers.

_Yep. He's still here_. _Ugh, he's getting his fucking germs all over my pillow. I'm going to have to do laundry later. _Carson could hear Kurt moving around in their bathroom, probably making up for the moisturizing routine he hadn't done the night before. Carson sighed and stared at the curls on what was usually his side of the bed, thinking dark thoughts. Stupid hobbit had probably passed out there on purpose just so he could sleep next to Kurt. Which would be really douchy of him, considering he had spent the entire night flirting with Rachel. Carson hadn't been too drunk to forget that, or the crushed look on Kurt's face as he watched them sing together.

He also clearly remembered kissing Kurt again. Apparently this was becoming a pattern. Every time he and Kurt attended a party, they ended up making out._Maybe we should go to parties more often._

"Hey, Kurt! Come give me a hand with these eggs!" he heard his dad call from downstairs.

"I'll be down in a minute!" came Kurt's voice from inside the bathroom.

"What the hell is a shirred egg? Is that the same thing as a scrambled egg?" their father continued, and Carson could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly sat up and tried not to look as hung over as he was. He hoped Blaine would stay the hell asleep so that Burt couldn't see how hung over _he_ probably was.

"Hey, what's this?" asked their dad, opening the bedroom door and standing at the foot of the twins' bed, apparently mistaking Blaine for Kurt and not even noticing that Carson was on the couch. "Today was the day you were going to teach me all about brunch!" he said.

"I'll be down in a sec," Kurt said, peeking his head around the corner of the open bathroom door as he rubbed some kind of cream onto his face. Blaine chose that moment to wake up with a jolt, pressing his palm to his face and letting out a huge breath.

"Where am I?" he mumbled stupidly. Carson rolled his eyes. _You're on MY side of the bed, where I'M supposed to sleep with MY brother, the guy YOU said you just wanted to be friends with, and you have effectively screwed me out of one of the only nights I ever get to be with him anymore. That's where you are, you troll._

Burt looked taken aback and slightly shocked as he looked from Blaine to Kurt and back again, offering a "Sorry…my bad" before turning around to exit the room, finally noticing Carson as he did so. He looked extremely confused as he left, making sure to leave the door open on his way out. Kurt emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, holding a small cup of water and already dressed for the day, to Carson's relief. He didn't need Blaine catching a glimpse of Kurt half-undressed.

"Well, Bobby, it's been just _lovely_ having you here, but I think it's high time you got going back to Dalton, wouldn't you say?" said Carson, instantly regretting talking so much when the noise aggravated his headache. Kurt gave him a "Be nice" look and pointed Blaine in the direction of the bathroom to wash up.

"Be nice, Carson," he whispered, once Blaine was safely out of earshot. "He's hung over." Carson flopped back down on the couch and held his head.

"Why should I?" he said. "He's done nothing but reject you, make you miserable, make you help him serenade other guys, make out with one of your most annoying friends right in front of you, and to top it all, steal my side of the bed. Why are we considering his feelings, again? And I'm hung over too, you know. Hung over _and_ I spent the night unable to sleep much because I never sleep right without you," he whined.

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "I know, Carsey. When he's done in there I'll take him back to Rachel's to get his car and then he'll be out of your hair, I promise. In the meantime, here," he said, handing Carson two pills that he hadn't even realized he was carrying. "These will help." Carson swallowed the pills eagerly and accepted the water Kurt handed him afterwards.

"He better not have vomited on the bed," Carson grumbled as he finished his water. Kurt laughed and sat down on the couch, pulling Carson into his lap.

"I don't think he did, Carsey," he said, running his fingers through Carson's hair. "I'll wash the bedding later though, ok?"

"K," agreed Carson, wrapping his arms around his twin and burying his face in Kurt's stomach. He heard Blaine emerge from the bathroom and he hugged Kurt tighter.

"Aaaw," said Blaine, and Carson could just hear the douchy smile in his voice. "You guys are so close. It's adorable."

"Ugh, get _rid_ of him," begged Carson, his voice muffled against Kurt's clothes.

Once Blaine was gone (Carson had insisted on accompanying Kurt to drop him off at his car, since he wasn't about to give Blaine the opportunity to be alone with Kurt for any length of time if he could help it), the day improved quite a bit, although Carson was seriously considering never touching a drink again. The day-after headaches were _so _not worth it. He focused on making the most of the time he had left with Kurt before his twin had to go back to school the next day. They spent most of the day catching up on all the TV shows Kurt had recorded for the week, with Kurt curled up in Carson's lap the way Carson liked. It was a rather pleasant day, actually, until Kurt took a break to go make dinner with their dad, who apparently had been doing a lot of thinking.

"Kurt, look, I need you to ask me before you have someone sleep over," he was saying as Carson entered the kitchen and took a seat on a stool.

"We were fully clothed the entire time!" Kurt protested. "Blaine was too drunk to drive, so I let him crash here. I was being responsible."

"You kids are drinking now?" their dad said sharply.

"Finn and I didn't have any, if that's what you're worried about," Kurt retorted. His eyes caught Carson's and he quickly shook his head. "I mean…_we_ didn't…none of us…we didn't have any." Carson felt a little warm and fuzzy inside that Kurt was trying to cover for him like that.

"No, I'm worried about you being inappropriate in my house," said Burt.

_Inappropriate? Wait, does he actually think that Kurt and the hobbit…that they…oh god._

"Inappropriate?" Carson spoke up. "Dad, that's-"

"And if Puckerman had a sleepover with Finn, would _that_ be inappropriate?" Kurt asked, interrupting Carson.

"That's different," said Burt.

_Different how?_ Carson wondered. _Kurt has a point, and besides, they weren't even alone together_.

"Because they wouldn't have sex?" asked Kurt.

"No, I would never allow Finn to have a girl sleep over in his bed," replied Burt.

"But would it make you uncomfortable if he did?" asked Kurt.

"Everybody hold on a second!" Carson interrupted, getting up from his stool and putting an arm around Kurt. "Dad, _nothing_ happened between Kurt and that guy. Absolutely nothing. I was there too, you know. You know how protective I am. Do you really think I'd let anything happen? I promise you, all they did was sleep. I may not like the hobbit, but he was too drunk to drive. It was better for him to sleep here than to try driving and end up killing himself." _Which actually wouldn't be TOO tragic, actually, but… _"Kurt was just saving a life. And besides, you said nothing last year when Kurt had Brittany alone in our room. Why's that?"

Burt looked between the two of them and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Kurt, I just want you to apologize for being inappropriate and promise me you'll never do it again. Ok?"

"Fine," said Kurt. "I'm sorry. I won't have sleepovers with anyone who might be gay without asking you first."

Carson wanted so badly to snort, but he managed to hold it in.

"Thanks for defending me," Kurt said later as they got ready for bed (the sheets and pillowcases having been freshly laundered and erased of any essence of Blaine).

"Of course," said Carson. "I'll defend you to the death. Like I really want anyone thinking anything went on between you and that gel haired douchebag, or that I would let it happen while I was in the room and breathing."

"Hey, he's not a douchebag, Carsey," protested Kurt, climbing into the bed. "He's just….a little clueless, maybe."

"He's a clueless douchebag," said Carson, climbing in beside him and turning out the light.

Kurt sighed. "Goodnight, Carson."

"Goodnight."

* * *

The next few days were some of the weirdest of Kurt's entire life. It was like some kind of alien had invaded Blaine's body. An alien that was attracted to _Rachel_, of all people. Kurt couldn't understand it. He had been prepared to let the kiss and the flirting at the party slide by, since Blaine was drunk and so was Rachel, but then Rachel had asked Blaine out on a date at the beginning of the week, and Blaine had actually accepted. And, ok, maybe Kurt was a little sorry for saying what he said to Blaine about bisexuality not being real, but it was a heat of the moment thing. He was hurting. He had apologized later.

_Apparently he's just willing to date literally anyone except me_, Kurt thought bitterly on the night of Blaine and Rachel's date, laying on the bed in his dorm room and staring up at the ceiling. He pulled out his phone and dashed off a text to Carson.

_They're out on a date right now. I feel like I'm gonna die. –Kurtsie_

_Not that I think you should care, since Billy sucks, but if you're that upset about it, why don't you ask Rachel how it went? Maybe it was awful. I can't imagine he's any better at being romantic with a girl than he is with guys. Even if Rachel is more troll than girl. –C_

Asking Rachel was a pretty good idea, Kurt thought. It was such a good idea that he drove all the way to her house, despite the late hour, to confront her right then and there when her date ended. She roped him into helping clean up the leftover party mess, which was fine with him. Whatever it took to get her to talk.

"Thanks for helping with the party cleanup," she said as they tossed cups into garbage bags. "Especially considering that you didn't even drink."

"I was in the neighborhood," he replied, surprising even himself at how bitchy he sounded. Carson would have been proud.

"At 10:00?" she asked. "Are you sure you're not here just to find out how my date with Blaine went?"

"Oh, was that tonight?" he asked, feigning surprise.

He couldn't believe his ears as Rachel recounted the date. They had seen _Love Story_, dressed up as the characters, and hadn't kissed. Kurt would have laughed out loud with relief, because that was probably one of the gayest dates he'd ever heard of, except he felt kind of sorry for Rachel that she thought this meant she had a chance with Blaine. Or that kissing him while sober would confirm it. But, whatever. If she wanted to make an idiot of herself, let her. He gleefully texted Carson as soon as he left her house, knowing that his twin would get a total kick out of this.

_Judging by what they did on their date, he is COMPLETELY gay. I'm meeting her at the Lima Bean tomorrow and she's going to kiss him sober to prove that he's straight. I can't even. –Kurtsie_

_Oh my GOD. Hey, I'll meet you there after school. I have GOT to see this. And then you can come home with me after. –C_

_Hehe. Deal. -Kurtsie_

* * *

"So you said he comes this way at 3:30?" asked Rachel nervously as she sat across from Kurt and Carson at the Lima Bean the next afternoon. Carson was having a hard time not grinning like an idiot. He was _so_ looking forward to watching Rachel make a complete fool of herself, even if he was kind of disappointed that Blaine wasn't straight. It would certainly make Carson's life a hell of a lot easier if he was.

"Like clockwork," replied Kurt. "For his post-rehearsal medium drip."

"I just can't wait to lay one on him," said Rachel cheerfully, whipping out a tub of lip gloss and applying about a pound of it to her lips.

"Trollberry, I'm going to have to ask you to never use the phrase "lay one on him" ever again. It's gross coming from you," said Carson.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Rachel," said Kurt. "I don't mean to be a scold, but I don't want you to get hurt, either."

_Oh, Kurtsie, hush. Don't ruin this for me. I want to see her hopes and dreams get crushed._

"There's no victory in this for me either way," Kurt continued.

"Who cares about you, buddy? I may get a new boyfriend out of this who can keep up with me vocally and, in the future, give me vaguely Eurasian-looking children," said Rachel. Carson wanted to slap her.

"Some friend you are, troll," he said. "What the hell? Kurt still likes him, you ass. Santana was right. Someone should ship you off to Israel."

"Oh, talked to Santana lately?" asked Kurt in an odd voice. Carson looked at him curiously.

"Yeah, she popped by the journalism classroom today for a few minutes and said she wanted to run a personals ad in the _Muckraker_. I told her I don't run that kind of paper."

Blaine walked into the shop right then, attracting the attention of Kurt. "There he is. Dreamy as ever," he said.

"Ok, wish me luck!" said Rachel, getting up from her seat and walking over to Blaine. Carson rubbed his hands together in glee. He couldn't _wait_ for this.

"Hey, Rachel!" said Blaine cheerfully. "What's going o-"

His words were cut off by an eager kiss from Rachel that seemed to go on forever and made Kurt look so very uncomfortable. Carson felt like throwing up.

_Ugh, it's like watching slugs fuck_, he thought, looking down at his hot chocolate and trying to keep his stomach calm.

Mercifully, the kiss finally ended, and everyone waited expectantly for Blaine's reaction.

"Huh," he said. "Yup. I'm gay. 100% gay. Thank you so much for clearing that up for me, Rachel."

"HA!" exclaimed Carson loudly, unable to hold in his joy over seeing Rachel humiliated in front of everyone at the Lima Bean.

"Hey, save my space in line, will you? I gotta go hit the restroom," said Blaine, heading off and leaving Rachel standing there looking dumbfounded.

Kurt and Carson exchanged a look and got up at the same time, walking over to her. Carson was grinning. Kurt looked slightly sympathetic, which Carson couldn't understand. _He's too nice for his own good, I swear_.

"That was hard, wasn't it?" asked Kurt.

"Are you kidding? That was amazing! I just had a relationship with a guy who turned out to be gay. That is songwriting gold!" exclaimed Rachel, grabbing Kurt's face and planting a big kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, troll lips off my baby brother, please," said Carson. "I don't need you getting your gross germs all over him, ok?"

* * *

Carson awoke that night thinking at first that Kurt was in the middle of a nightmare. He registered a lot of movement and noise from the bundle in his arms that was Kurt, and automatically started stroking his twin's arm, trying to calm him down.

"Shhh, Kurtsie, it's ok, I'm-"

"Mmm, yeah, you like that, don't you?" Kurt mumbled in his sleep, and Carson froze, fully awake now.

Oh. _Oh_. Not a nightmare, then.

"Gonna make you forget all about her," he continued, and Carson noticed that Kurt's hips were rotating as much as they could in his position, his ass brushing up against Carson's interested dick every few seconds.

_Oh, god. Oh god, this…what do I do?_ he thought desperately. He debated turning on the lamp to see better and decided against it. He didn't want to take the chance of Kurt waking up. Not like this.

Kurt rolled over so that he was facing Carson, his thigh resting between Carson's legs and pressing up against his now _very_ interested dick. Carson bit his lip and tried his hardest not to moan.

"Mmm," Kurt breathed, and _fuck_, his breath was _right in Carson's ear_. "You're not even gonna remember her name when I'm done, because you're MINE. You've always been mine," he said, rutting up against Carson, and Carson seriously thought he was going to die.

_That's Kurt. That's Kurt's hard dick and it's rubbing up on me, and oh GOD, and what do I do, I can't let him...what if he wakes up….oh my god, he feels HUGE….._

"Mine," Kurt whispered again, humping Carson at a faster pace. "You want me, you…_ah_… just don't know…she can't have you, you're not hers to have….over my dead body…need to make sure everyone knows you belong to me…"

_He must be dreaming about Blaine_, thought Carson sadly. _This whole thing with Rachel must really be_-

And then he felt lips on his neck. Lips. Kurt's lips. _Fuuuuck. Oh my fuck, what…_

Kurt was sucking on his neck, and he was doing it earnestly. Carson felt like he was drowning, it felt so fucking good, and he decided he didn't care if Kurt was thinking about Blaine while he did it.

_God, is this what he was doing in that closet? I can't believe I don't remember…fuck being drunk if this happened, and he knew he was doing it to ME and not that hobbit, and I can't even remember…oh god.._

Carson was fully hard now and his erection was aching, trapped inside his clothes. He pressed his palm against it, trying to get even a little bit of friction. Kurt's lips were on his throat now, and Kurt himself was practically on top of him, rutting up against him at a punishing pace, and Carson was having a very hard time forming thoughts beyond "_Oh god" _and _"Don't stop, please_." He was also extremely jealous of the guy in Kurt's dream, wishing it was possible to travel into people's dreams just for situations like this.

Kurt shifted then, and _FUCK_…that was his erection pressed up against Carson's, and Carson's brain short-circuited completely. He stopped trying to think. He just let it happen as Kurt moved against him, finally providing Carson with the friction he needed. He had a feeling it wasn't going to take him long to finish. Not with Kurt's lips on him and his hot breath against his skin, and his hands pressed up against Carson's chest, holding him there.

"Wanted you forever," Kurt murmured. "Love you so much, you don't even know…." He moved against Carson twice more, and then Carson felt him twitch in his pants and come, a low moan escaping as he continued suckling on the sensitive skin of Carson's neck. The rush of warmth against him pushed Carson over the edge, and he whined low in his throat as he reached his own release, panting and hoping that Kurt didn't wake up, because what the fuck was he going to say? "You totally just humped me in your sleep while dreaming about your hobbit crush?"

Thankfully, Kurt settled back down into a deep sleep, still laying on top of Carson, his head lolled to the side and buried in Carson's shoulder. Carson let him lay there for a few minutes as he caught his own breath and waited for his brain to come back online. Then he carefully rolled Kurt off of him and back onto his own side of the bed. He carefully snuck into their bathroom and cleaned himself up, wondering if he should do the same to Kurt and deciding against it. He didn't want to risk Kurt suspecting he'd done it when he woke up.

_Kurt, what are you doing to me? You're going to kill me, baby_.

* * *

_Kurt knew, somehow, that he was dreaming, that this wasn't really happening, but he was able to ignore it, because that was Carson on their bed. With no clothes on. Carson completely naked and HARD and waiting for him, and…_

_"Kurt," said Carson, blinking at him and biting his lip. "Kurt, please."_

_Kurt walked quickly over to the bed (oh, ok, he wasn't wearing clothes either…when did that happen?), tentatively reaching out a hand and trailing a path down Carson's chest with his finger, stopping right above his dick._

_"Can I?" he asked, his fingers dancing across the smooth skin, not daring to touch where he really wanted to until Carson said he could._

_"Please," said Carson. "Please, I want you to."_

_Kurt nodded and took a deep breath as he lightly stroked down the length of Carson's erection, the skin feeling velvety smooth under his fingers. Carson inhaled sharply and Kurt smiled, stroking him a few more times before climbing up and straddling Carson's hips, their erections pressing together deliciously._

_"Mmm…you like that, don't you?" Kurt murmured, rotating his hips in slow circles and loving the way Carson threw his head back and moaned. "Yeah, you do. I'm gonna make you forget all about her," he said. "What did she do to you in the journalism classroom today, hmm? Bet it wasn't as good as this," he said, giving a sharp thrust against his twin. Carson moaned loudly._

_"Kuuurt," he groaned. "Oh, god."_

_"That's my name, baby," said Kurt, stroking his hands across Carson's chest and rolling a nipple experimentally between his fingers._

_"KURT!"_

_"Mmmm," moaned Kurt, leaning down and licking at Carson's ear as he thrust his hips. "You're not even gonna remember her name when I'm done, because you're MINE. You've always been mine."_

_"Yours. Only yours," Carson moaned, bucking his hips up to meet Kurt's thrusts, creating the most delicious friction against their dicks._

_"Mine," repeated Kurt, grabbing Carson's wrists and holding them there with one hand, pinning them above his head. And then everything changed and he was thrusting into Carson roughly (when did THAT happen…wasn't there something you were supposed to do first?...who cares…), and both of them were moaning and panting._

_"You want me, you…ah… just don't know…she can't have you, you're not hers to have….over my dead body…need to make sure everyone knows you belong to me…" panted Kurt, thrusting as fast as he could, his mind overtaken with the pleasure of being so dominating. He leaned his head down and attached his lips to the smooth skin of Carson's neck, sucking and biting and licking his way across his gorgeous throat. He wanted there to be marks. He wanted people, especially fucking Santana, to SEE, and never forget who Carson belonged to. He thrust into him harder, faster, deeper, until he felt like they had melted into one person, and Carson was just taking it, his head thrown back in pleasure as he moaned variants of curse words and Kurt's name._

_"Wanted you forever," Kurt breathed, feeling himself inching close to orgasm. "Love you so much, you don't even know….oh, GOD, Carson!" He let out a long moan as he came, feeling fireworks exploding as wave after wave of pleasure rushed through him, making him shiver and shake until he collapsed, spent, on top of Carson. He lazily reached his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Carson's throbbing dick, pumping him a few times until Carson gasped and came all over Kurt's fist._

_"You're mine," he repeated in a whisper. "Mine. Not hers."_

_"Yours," Carson repeated. "Yours, Kurtsie. I love you."_


	13. Chapter 13

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys! Nothing much to say here this time, really, except you guys are all awesome and your reviews make our happy happen. Let's read!**

Kurt opened his eyes leisurely the next morning, in no hurry to get out of bed yet. He was still feeling the afterglow of his dream, and he wanted to enjoy it for a little while longer before Carson woke up. It had been a really wonderful dream. He couldn't remember _every_ detail, but what he could recall was hot and exciting and just made him feel so good. Which was kind of weird, since he was still pretty squeamish about all things sex, but he supposed that maybe Carson was the only exception.

_Take THAT, Santana_, he thought. On the other hand, he also felt kind of down and depressed, since it _had_ been only a dream. If only dreams were real. It had felt real, but then, his dreams usually did. He was a very vivid dreamer. He hoped he hadn't moaned out loud in his sleep or anything, like Carson did whenever _he_ had one of…well…one of those dreams. Kurt blushed and tried not to think about how hot it was when Carson had dreams like that, even if they_were_ probably about Santana.

He felt oddly cold, and burrowed further back onto the other side of the bed, seeking the warmth of Carson's body that was usually there to greet him. There wasn't anything there this time, though. Kurt turned himself around to look and was faced with an empty bed. Carson was gone.

"Carson?" he murmured, sitting up and looking around the room in confusion. It was rare for Carson to get up before he did, especially now that they only got weekends together. _Maybe he got up early to write_, he thought. _Poor thing works so hard on that paper. People should appreciate him way more than they do_.

A sticky, uncomfortable feeling in his pants suddenly came to his attention, and he groaned as he realized that his dream must have been more vivid than he thought. _Good thing I sleep facing away from Carson. _At least Carson wasn't there at the moment, which Kurt suddenly became extremely grateful for as he got up and rushed into the bathroom, planning to strip his soiled clothes off and shower. He didn't need to face his twin with come-stained pants.

He wasn't expecting to see Carson in there, but there stood his twin in front of the mirror, fully dressed and dabbing something onto his neck. He caught Kurt's eye in the mirror, an odd expression crossing his face.

"Morning," he said, a flustered smile spreading across his face. "I, um…I thought you'd sleep for a little longer. I got up early. I had some stuff to write for the paper, so…"

"That's what I thought," said Kurt, forgetting about his pants as his eyes wandered over to the mysterious something in Carson's hand that he had been putting on his skin. It was the concealer stick Kurt had given him after New Year's, when both of them had been covered in hickeys from Santana's party. Why was he using it now? What was he covering up?

"Since when do you use concealer?" he asked. _Way to be subtle, Kurt._

"Oh, um…I…uh…acne," said Carson, capping the stick of makeup and tossing it in a drawer under the sink. "Yeah, _huge_ pimple. Really distracting. I thought I'd try covering it up."

"Oh," said Kurt, not believing him for a second. Carson wasn't the type of person who gave a damn about his skin or what people thought about it. "Well, I hope you washed the skin first before you put the makeup on, or the acne will just get worse."

"Right," said Carson, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll, uh…I'll keep that in mind next time." There was a beat of silence, and then he spoke again. "I'm sorry, did you need to use the bathroom?"

Kurt suddenly remembered his soiled pants and flushed, nodding quickly. "Yeah, I was gonna shower real fast, and then I have to do my face."

"Right, yes. Well, I'll just…I'll leave you to that," Carson said, his voice trailing off slightly as Kurt stripped off his shirt. "I…I'll just go write some more, and then we can do something when you're ready."

"Ok," said Kurt, breathing a sigh of relief as Carson left, shutting the door behind him. At least his twin hadn't noticed his pants. He finished undressing and quickly got into the shower, pondering the mystery of Carson using makeup while he washed his hair. He definitely didn't believe that pimple story. Carson had to be hiding something else. But what, though? It had to be something he didn't want Kurt to know about, enough to try to lie. Carson always told him everything.

_Not everything_, Kurt reminded himself. _He still hasn't actually told you that he likes Santana. You figured that out on your own_. The thought of Santana sent an icy cold feeling into the pit of Kurt's stomach. Carson's words at the Lima Bean the previous day echoed through Kurt's brain.

"_She popped by the journalism classroom today,"_ he had said. He had been alone with her, clearly. What if Carson was hiding something that he didn't want Kurt to see because he thought Kurt didn't know about his crush on her? Something like a hickey? Kurt hadn't noticed anything on Carson's neck yesterday, but then he hadn't really been paying attention in the middle of all the Blaine and Rachel stuff. And Carson had probably been wearing concealer then, too.

_Santana, I swear to a god I don't even believe in, you had better stay away from him or so help me, I will not be afraid to MAKE you stay away_, thought Kurt fiercely. _I'm familiar with your track record, and you will NOT hurt my brother._

* * *

Carson hurried out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him as he leaned against it, letting out a huge breath. That had been a close call. He had thought he'd have enough time before Kurt got up to cover up all the hickeys that had resulted from Kurt's dream, but he had been wrong, clearly. There were a _lot_ of hickeys. Kurt had really done a number on him. Carson wasn't sure whether to be scared or turned on at the thought of what Kurt could do to him while fully awake and aware of his actions if he got that into it while he was asleep. He really hoped that Kurt believed the pimple story, because he was _not_ prepared for him to discover those marks and start asking questions. What the hell was Carson supposed to say? He couldn't tell him the truth. Not only would it be awkward as hell, poor Kurt would probably die of embarrassment. Carson couldn't put him through that.

_Getting those hickeys was fun, though. Even if he was thinking about that gel haired freak, it was still hot, and it felt SO good. Kurt would make such a fantastic lover, and….oh, fuck, Carson, STOP THAT._

He heard the shower stop in the bathroom and quickly pulled out his laptop, sliding his glasses on as he sat on the bedroom sofa and trying to look like he had been writing the whole time. The bathroom door opened and Kurt emerged, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist as he headed for his underwear drawer, and _fuck_ he looked good. Why did he have to wear clothes all the time, again? Clothes were stupid.

_Because you wouldn't want him being ogled by all the perverts who probably go to that Dalton Academy_, thought Carson, _especially not Munchkin Boy._ _Oh god, I have got to stop staring before Kurt notices. _He focused his attention on the completely blank document he had open on the screen and tried his best not to stare at Kurt.

"What are you working on?" asked Kurt casually, rooting through his half of the closet (which was actually more like his eighty percent of the closet, since he owned way more clothes than Carson did).

"Um…I'm, uh…" Carson stammered, making the mistake of looking up at Kurt, who was wearing the tight, white boxer briefs that always got Carson flustered. All coherent thought went right out the window. "Um…I'm researching for…something," he finished lamely, tugging at the neckline of his T-shirt. It had suddenly gotten a lot hotter in the room. Or, at least, it felt like it had._Goddamn, that ass!_

"Sounds interesting," Kurt teased, putting on the clothes he had chosen and turning to look at him. A weird look crossed over his face. "What's that?" he asked.

"What's what?" asked Carson, confused.

"That," replied Kurt, crossing over to him and pointing in the direction of Carson's chest. "That…that bruise," he said, his voice cracking a little.

Carson looked down and instantly felt his stomach fall as he saw what Kurt was pointing at. Apparently, he had forgotten to completely cover a particularly angry looking hickey on the hollow of his throat, where it had been hidden beneath the neckline of his shirt. Now it was exposed, since Carson had pulled the shirt down without thinking, and there really was no mistaking it for anything other than what it was.

Not that he wasn't going to try to pass it off, though.

"Oh, that," he said nervously. "I…uh…I…I accidentally whacked myself there yesterday with…um…my seatbelt," he said in a rush, hoping that Kurt would just accept it and drop it.

"Your seatbelt," repeated Kurt, not even phrasing it as a question. "That looks really bad. How the hell did that even happen?"

"Oh, you know…you know how distracted I get when I'm excited about…about seeing you for the weekend," said Carson, his voice growing smaller toward the end of that sentence as Kurt reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over the bruise, causing Carson to shiver a little.

"Looks painful," Kurt murmured. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Carson shook his head. "No, not really." _No, actually it turns me on quite a bit because you gave it to me_.

Kurt sat beside him and leaned his head down, placing a soft kiss right over the hickey, and it took everything Carson had in him not to moan at the contact.

"There," he said. "I've kissed it better, just in case." He gave Carson a small smile. "I told Mercedes we could go to the mall today after breakfast. Are you coming with?"

Carson nodded eagerly, happy that the conversation about his hickey was over. Maybe Kurt would just forget all about it. _Yeah, right. Kurt never forgets anything. He has the memory of an elephant, and even if he didn't, he's not going to forget something like this._

"Yeah…yeah, of course," he said.

"Great," said Kurt, patting him lightly on the cheek and going to fix his hair. Carson looked down at his laptop, his eyes unfocused as he struggled to remain calm.

_Please don't let him bring it up again, please._

* * *

Kurt didn't bring it up again, but Carson noticed him staring at his neck and throat an awful lot for the entire duration of the weekend with the oddest expression on his face. Like a mixture of sadness and something else Carson couldn't quite identify. Carson was just happy that he wasn't having to talk about it anymore. He was so not ready for that awkward conversation.

They went to the mall with Mercedes on Saturday as promised. Carson spent a great deal of time sitting bored out of his mind outside various store dressing rooms, waiting as Kurt tried on outfit after outfit and ultimately deciding on none of them, despite both Carson and Mercedes insisting that every outfit looked fantastic on him.

Thankfully, Finn had gone to spend Saturday night at Puck's house, and Burt and Carole were out for the evening as well, so it was just Carson and Kurt alone in the house for most of the night. Carson always liked those times best, when he and Kurt could just be together, and there was absolutely nothing to distract them or interrupt them. Kurt suggested a movie and Carson agreed, not really caring what they watched as long as he got to cuddle up with Kurt on the couch. Kurt decided on _Mamma Mia_. Carson knew he chose that one because he liked to hear Carson's snarky commentary, no matter how much he pretended to protest.

"Sure," he agreed. "Pop it in." Kurt smiled and set up the DVD before settling himself on the living room couch beside Carson, curling up with his head in his lap as the movie began. And Carson wasn't about to skimp on the snark.

"This movie makes no sense," he said about thirty minutes in. "Sophie would have been born in the 1980s. Why do all four parents dress like hippies from the 60s in the flashbacks?"

"It's a movie, Carson," said Kurt, a smile in his voice despite the fact that Carson could tell he was trying to sound exasperated. "Just go with it. Suspend your disbelief."

"I can't," said Carson, stroking his fingers through Kurt's hair. He heard Kurt let out a happy sigh. "And how come _none_ of these guys even suspect that they might be her dad? I can't even. That would be the first thing I would ask if I was invited to the wedding of the daughter of an old girlfriend, and the daughter was suspiciously old enough to have been conceived _right_ around the time we dated. What the hell."

He kept up a steady stream of commentary until the movie reached the point where Donna sang "Slipping Through My Fingers." Then he couldn't help but get very quiet. He'd never actually stopped to consider the lyrics before, but now they were really hitting home for him, considering how much time Kurt spent away from him, whether away at Dalton or with Blaine. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying a little at the line "_Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time."_

_I do wish that_, he thought, looking down at Kurt in his lap, who was humming the song under his breath. _I wish I could just keep you with me forever, Kurtsie. I know that I can't, and it kills me._

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, turning his head and looking up at Carson from under his long lashes. "I haven't heard a sarcastic comment from you in like five minutes."

Carson mentally shook himself and smiled down at him. "I'm sorry. I guess I was distracted by the probability that Donna was still living with her mother at forty when she got knocked up with Sophie."

Kurt snorted and batted weakly at Carson's arm. "You're too much."

"I know," said Carson. "But you love it."

Kurt sighed. "Yep. I do."

* * *

"Demonstration," Ms. Holiday was saying as she stood in front of Carson and twenty other students, most of whom looked either terrified or confused. "This is a condom," she said, holding one up for emphasis, "Which can help prevent the spread of HIV, which can lead to AIDS, and it also prevents pregnancy." She smiled and held up a cucumber in her other hand. Carson found himself staring at it thoughtfully.

_Wait, was Kurt about that big the other night? I mean, he felt pretty huge. I don't think I'm quite that big when I'm hard, but I would say I'm actually pretty close, and since we're twins he should be just as big, right?_

"Wait, cucumbers can give you AIDS?" Finn asked stupidly, snapping Carson out of his thoughts. He suddenly realized he'd been busy thinking about Kurt's dick in the middle of class (granted, a sex-ed class, but still) and felt his face flush. Good thing Kurt wasn't there, or else Carson had a feeling his entire face would be fire engine red instead of just slightly warm.

"Seriously?" asked Mercedes. "Because I just had them on my salad."

Carson sighed and shook his head in disbelief. "Are you both really that stupid?" he asked. "For fuck's sake, the cucumber is supposed to help us learn how to put on the condom, it does NOT give you diseases. How the hell did half of you people even get this far into high school?"

"I took the hallway," said Brittany quietly from the back of the class. Carson rolled his eyes. Ms. Holiday told everyone to pair up and practice their condom applying technique, and as if Carson wasn't flustered and irritated enough by this class, he wound up paired with Finn of all people.

"I don't know how to do this," Finn complained, repeatedly trying and failing to roll the condom onto their cucumber while Carson held the vegetable steady and glared at him. "Santana put the condom on me when we did it."

"Ok, eew," said Carson, trying desperately to block out the absolutely disgusting mental image of Finn having sex. "_Please_ don't talk about your intimate encounters around me when I have no Pepto Bismol handy, ok, Frankenteen?"

Finn shrugged and grabbed another condom, having managed to somehow puncture the first one. How he managed this, Carson had no idea, and he didn't want to dwell on it. Finn frowned as he struggled with the foil wrapper.

"I can't open it, dude," he said.

Carson rolled his eyes so far back he was worried they'd stay that way permanently. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Here, give me the damn condom. You hold the cucumber." He grabbed it from Finn and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth, taking out the condom and unrolling the latex onto the cucumber perfectly in all of five seconds.

"Wow," said Finn. "You're good at that."

_I am, huh_? thought Carson, feeling more than a little proud. _Kurt would be proud of me….oh, shit…don't think about Kurt and condoms, Carson. Your dick doesn't know it's not at home in bed, so just….just stop_.

He couldn't wait for that class to be over.

* * *

It had been quite a long week for Kurt. Ever since he and Blaine had run into Coach Sylvester at the Lima Bean (actually, ever since she deliberately stalked them to the Lima Bean) and told them that New Directions was trying to make their performance sexy for Regionals, Blaine had become obsessed with having the Warblers do the same thing. So obsessed, in fact, that he had made them all practice performing Neon Trees' "Animal" every free moment they had all week.

And now Kurt found himself standing with the rest of the Warblers in some kind of weird warehouse deep in the bowels of Dalton that he hadn't even known existed, facing a crowd of girls from Dalton's sister school and preparing to perform the song as a semi-duet with Blaine in front of them. And it had to be sexy.

_How am I going to pull THAT off?_ he thought. _I guess it doesn't really matter. Their attention is probably going to be focused on Blaine, anyway. I mean, who could blame them? He's so hot_.

"I would like to welcome the ladies of our sister school, Crawford Country Day," Blaine was saying. "As you know, the Warblers are competing in our show choir's regionals competition next week. So, what we're going for here today, ladies, is something a little…a little sexy. But we need your input."

_That's what I'm worried about_, thought Kurt.

"Are we scream worthy?" Blaine continued, instructing the girls on what to look for. "Do we make your knees turn to jelly? So, without further ado, hang on to your bobby socks, girls. 'Cause we're about to rock your world."

_He actually has a really excellent way with words_, marveled Kurt as the music started and the group launched into the performance they had been blocking all week. Once Kurt got into it, he wasn't sure what he had been so worried about. He thought he'd done a decent enough job being sexy, even if most of the screaming from the girls was for Blaine. At least they were screaming. That was something.

"Call us," said two girls who straggled behind after the performance, handing Blaine folded pieces of paper that Kurt assumed contained phone numbers. Kurt was perched on one of the steps they had used to perform on, running a comb through his hair. The dancing and the gallivanting through the bubbles the Warblers had dumped into the air had messed up his hair a bit.

"Sweet," said Blaine, taking the papers from the girls, "but not on your team." Kurt grinned to himself. _At least we've established that for certain thanks to Rachel._The girls exchanged disappointed looks and left .

"Are you ok?" Blaine asked as he walked toward Kurt. "You kept making those weird faces the whole song."

Kurt stopped mid-comb and looked up at him in surprise. "Those weren't weird faces. Those were my sexy faces," he said, confused. What was Blaine talking about? He hadn't thought his faces were _that_ bad.

"It just looked like you were having gas pains or something," said Blaine.

_What? Oh crap, were they REALLY that bad? They must have been. Blaine wouldn't say they were if they weren't. He's always been honest with me before._

"Great," Kurt said, now thoroughly discouraged. "How are we supposed to get up on stage at Regionals and sell sexy to the judges when I have as much sexual appeal and knowledge as a baby penguin?" Well, maybe that was pushing it a little too far. He knew _some_ things about sex. He had experimented with watching dirty movies on the internet (even if he quickly grew uncomfortable and always closed them off before Carson could see). And speaking of Carson, there were those dreams….

Clearly, though, he didn't know as much about it as he thought he did, or else maybe his performance would have been a little sexier.

"We'll figure something out," replied Blaine.

_See? There you go. He didn't deny my lack of sexual appeal. God, WHY ME?_

The solution Blaine came up with was to come over to help him practice his sexy faces. Dalton had a three day weekend while McKinley didn't, and Kurt had forgotten to remind his dad or Carson about it. He'd been about to call him on Thursday afternoon and ask if he could pick him up, but Blaine had come up to him and offered to drive him instead.

"And maybe I could stay awhile and we can work on how to get you to sell sexy," Blaine had added, which Kurt had no idea how to respond to.

"Um…sure," he'd said at last, thanking his lucky stars that Carson had the Writers' Club on Thursdays and would be visiting with Grandma afterwards. Perhaps Kurt could have Blaine already gone by the time Carson got home. Otherwise he would be tasked with explaining to his twin that Blaine was only helping him learn how to be sexy. Kurt had a feeling that would go over about as well with Carson as the initial news of their father's relationship with Carole Hudson had.

So now he was in his and Carson's bedroom alone with Blaine, the both of them sitting in front of Kurt's full length mirror as the shorter boy tried coaching him through a series of sexy situations to convey through his facial expressions. And it was awkward as hell. Kurt was really wishing that he'd just said no to the whole thing and called Carson to bring him home.

"Alright, so, give me sensual. But don't make fun of it. Like, really try," said Blaine. Kurt sighed inwardly and did his best.

"Ok, now give me sultry," said Blaine. Again, Kurt did his best.

"Um, Kurt, they're all sort of looking the same," said Blaine. Kurt snapped.

"That's because the face I'm actually doing is uncomfortable," he said, getting up and beginning to pace the room. "This is pointless, Blaine. I don't know how to be sexy because I don't know the first thing about sex." _Except for what I've dreamed about doing with my brother, and what I've ACTUALLY done with him in a certain linen closet, but you SO don't need to know that, oh god._

"Kurt, you're blushing," said Blaine, a wide smile crossing his face. _Ugh, of course I am. What else is new?_

"I've tried watching _those_ movies," said Kurt, wondering why the hell he was saying any of this to Blaine at all. "But I just get horribly depressed and I think about how they were all kids once, and they all have mothers, and god, _what_would their mothers think, and why would you get that tattoo there?" _Ok, Kurt, STOP before you embarrass yourself any further_.

"Then maybe we should have a conversation about it," replied Blaine, crossing his legs in front of him. "I'll tell you what I know."

_What he knows? Oh god, no. NO. I don't think I can handle that. I cannot handle listening to him talk about sex, or possibly how experienced he is. I'll die of embarrassment_.

"I don't…I don't want to know the graphic details," said Kurt. "I like romance. That's why I like Broadway musicals. Because the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets." Ok, so maybe that wasn't entirely true. He did like romance. He liked it a lot, and he wanted it for himself. And he did like the simplistic romantic style of a good musical, but that didn't necessarily mean that he wasn't open to learning about sex. Actually, he did kind of want to learn about it. His dreams about Carson (and watching Carson have dreams of his own, not to mention _making out in Santana's closet_) had definitely sparked his curiosity. So yes. Yes, he wanted to learn.

But not today. And not from Blaine. Especially not when he knew Blaine would be thinking the whole time about how lame and inexperienced Kurt was.

"Kurt, you're gonna have to learn about it someday," said Blaine quietly.

"Well, not today," said Kurt, suddenly even more uncomfortable than he had been before. "I think I've learned quite enough for today, thank you. I think you should leave."

Blaine shrugged and got up, grabbing his bag off the bed and slinging it over his shoulder. "I'll see you in school on Monday, then," he said, giving Kurt a tight smile. Kurt nodded, and Blaine made his way out the door, almost running straight into Carson as he did so.

_Crap_.

"Why Brandon, what a surprise. You're leaving, I trust?" Carson said in an overly fake, cheerful voice as he looked from Blaine to Kurt, his arms crossing over his chest.

"Um…yeah," said Blaine, ducking out of the room as fast as he could. Carson rolled his eyes as he watched him go, and then turned to Kurt.

"Why didn't you remind me you had a three day weekend?" Carson asked, setting his bag down and wrapping Kurt in a hug. "I would have come to get you."

"I forgot," said Kurt, hugging him back. "And Blaine offered to drive me, so I figured it was easier than bothering you."

Carson let go of him and gave him a long look. "Ok, second question, what was Baxter doing in our bedroom alone with you when there's no one home?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Oh, Carson, it wasn't anything," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "He was just…um…helping me with something."

"Oh?" Carson said, raising one eyebrow and re-crossing his arms. "Helping you with what, may I ask?"

"Just…stuff," said Kurt, not sure what else to say. Carson's raised eyebrow expression didn't change. Kurt sighed and gave in.

"The Warblers are trying to put together a sexy number to wow the judges at Regionals, and Blaine was helping me practice my sexy faces," he said in a rush.

"He was doing WHAT?" asked Carson, looking horrified. "Oh, I am so going to kill him. I knew he was only trying to take advantage of you. Did he try anything? Because if he did, I-"

"God, Carson, no, he didn't," said Kurt, exasperated. "He really was helping me practice. Apparently I needed it. When we performed our number for a bunch of girls yesterday, he said my faces looked like I had gas."

Carson's expression darkened and he sat down on the bed. "He said _what_?" he asked, sounding dangerous. "Is he blind? I can't believe he would say that to you. Well, actually, yes I can. He's an idiot."

Kurt nodded. "He was totally right, though, Carson. The faces I was making were just awful, I could tell."

"Bullshit," said Carson sharply. "Show me."

"What?"

"Show me the faces you were making," said Carson, his tone softening. "There's no way they can be as bad as you're thinking."

Kurt shook his head. "No, thanks. I've been embarrassed enough for one day."

Carson looked wounded. "Oh, Kurtsie, there's no need to be embarrassed. I guarantee you that your little friend doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Just…just show me for a minute, ok? There's no one here but us, and you know I would never make fun of you or make you feel bad."

Kurt bit his lip, hesitating. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Carson would be honest with him. He would.

"Well," he said slowly, thinking it over. "Ok, but….but you have to promise not to laugh at me, and you have to tell me the truth. If the faces are really that bad, I want you to tell me."

Carson smiled and reached out for Kurt's hand, taking it in his own. "Would I ever laugh at you?"

Kurt shook his head. "No."

"Of course I wouldn't. And I promise to be completely honest with you," said Carson, making a "cross my heart and hope to die" gesture. "I seriously think Billy was being a moron and you have nothing to worry about."

Kurt nodded and sat back down across from his mirror where he had been earlier with Blaine. Carson got off the bed and sat down beside him, hugging his knees and waiting expectantly.

"Go on, Kurtsie," he said encouragingly. "Show me."

Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. It was easier now than it had been with Blaine. Carson was familiar and comforting, and Kurt knew deep down that he would give him constructive criticism if he really needed to.

So he opened his eyes, and pulled the best sultry face he could muster, catching Carson's eye in the mirror. Carson was staring back, wide eyed.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Was that a good wow, or a bad wow?" asked Kurt nervously, dropping the face.

Carson swallowed. "Good wow. _Very_ good wow. Kurt, that didn't look like gas pain at all. That was sexy. Bobby had no fucking idea what he was talking about."

Kurt looked at him quizzically. "Really?"

"Really, and I am going to kick his hair gelled ass for making you feel bad about yourself."

"And you're not just saying that because I'm your brother and you feel like you have to?"

Carson shook his head. "Kurt, no. I honestly think you're sexy. Why do you think I'm so overprotective and worried about you when you're not with me? It's because you _are_ so sexy, and there's a lot of perverts out there."

Kurt smiled in the mirror. "You seriously think so?"

"Would I lie to you?" asked Carson.

Kurt bit his lip, considering what he was about to say next. He had no idea what had just come over him, but he supposed a big part of it was that he was positively full of love for Carson right then. Carson, who was always there for him and made him feel better when he was upset. Who always defended him. Who had always been Kurt's knight in shining armor even before Kurt knew what that was.

Carson, whom Kurt couldn't let suffer. Carson had helped him so often, and now it was Kurt's turn.

"You're not the only one who worries, you know," said Kurt, locking eyes with Carson in the mirror. "I worry a lot about you, too." Carson gave him a little smile that went straight to Kurt's heart.

"Aaaw, Kurtsie. You really shouldn't. I do pretty well taking care of myself," he replied.

"She's no good for you!" Kurt said, the words coming out in a rush as he turned around to face his twin. There. He had said it. Carson looked confused.

"What?" he asked. "Who's no good for me?"

"S-santana," Kurt said quickly, before he could lose his nerve. "She'll hurt you. Her track record is terrible. She's slept with practically everyone in school, and none of her relationships ever last. She uses people. She slept with _Finn_. And I know you like her and all, but I just….I can't let you go on pining over her when all she's ever going to do is break your heart."

Carson just stared at him throughout this speech, his mouth gaping open wider and wider with every word Kurt spoke. He looked positively shocked.

"Kurt," he said after a few seconds of stunned silence. "I…I don't even know what you're talking about."

Kurt blinked at him. "You don't have to lie to me, Carson. I know you like her."

Carson shook his head. "No…I…just….eew, no. NO. Why the hell would I like Santana of all people? She's dangerous. I'd be better off dating an angry cobra if I was into her. Which I'm _not_."

Kurt was extremely confused now. "But…I thought…"

Carson shook his head again. "Kurt, I don't know what ever made you think I liked her, but I don't. I really just….ugh, NO. You really don't have to worry about that."

Kurt tried desperately to process this new information without short-circuiting his brain. He still had so many questions. So many things that didn't make sense.

"I heard you, though," he murmured. "In the closet on New Year's Eve, right after we…you know." Carson blushed slightly. "I heard you making out with her."

Carson closed his eyes. "No, Kurt, what you heard was Santana acting like a psycho mental case. She practically tried to assault me with her lips, and I pushed her away."

"She…you did?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," continued Carson, nodding and looking at him. "I pushed her and told her to get off of me, and then she said she had a reputation to protect and she started banging around in there and moaning so that everyone would think something was happening. I was drunk, but I sure as hell remember that."

"Wait," said Kurt, holding up a hand and looking Carson right in the eyes. "To be perfectly clear, you and Santana did _not_ make out at her party?"

"_No_," said Carson. "Oh god, NO." The emphatic way he spoke, and the look in his eyes, convinced Kurt that he was indeed telling the truth.

A million thoughts ran through Kurt's mind at once. He thought about how Carson had been more than eager to go into the closet with him during that game. How they had kissed so passionately, and how Carson seemed to really be enjoying it. How his hands had wandered and explored Kurt, and how his fingers had been about to do wonderful things to him before Santana walked in. Clearly, he had not wanted to do the same with Santana, and Kurt felt bad now for not standing up to her more and allowing her to be alone in there with him.

And then he thought about how overprotective Carson was. Had always been. How he had always acted weird whenever Kurt checked out a guy, and how he could always come up with some sarcastic comment about the other boy. How he had disliked Finn. How he seemed to just hate Blaine.

And then a new, extremely troubling thought occurred to him. Those hickeys he had caught Carson trying to hide from him.

Santana hadn't made them, obviously. And what's more…they had first appeared the morning after Kurt had that really hot dream. And Kurt _did_ have a sleepwalking problem. Maybe he didn't have to actually leave the bed in order to "sleepwalk."

_Did I…oh god…did I give him those hickeys? DID I? And he just…he just let me do it. He didn't wake me. He could have, but he didn't, and…and he just said that he thinks I'm sexy._

"Are you ok?" Carson asked, calling Kurt's attention to the fact that he had been openly staring at Carson's neck.

"Yeah, I….I'm fine," he replied. "I could use a hug, though."

Carson smiled and reached out his arms, which Kurt fell into gratefully. He was so overcome with feelings and emotions, he didn't even know what to do with them or where to begin. For now, he just wanted the familiar comfort of Carson's arms.

* * *

Carson skipped school on Friday to spend as much time as possible with Kurt, and their father had said he was fine with that as long as Carson popped by the garage for a few hours to help out in the afternoon. Carson had reluctantly agreed, especially since Kurt told him he had made plans with Rachel to go to the movies, anyway

"Ugh, have fun with that," Carson said with a shiver. "Trollberry is a nightmare at the movies." She really was. She usually spent the entire time loudly critiquing the actors' performances and commenting on how much better she thought she could do them.

So Carson was glad to just let Kurt deal with her while he headed to the garage. He figured that the most he would have to do is help fill a few orders and possibly tinker with an engine or two, and then he could escape and spend the rest of the weekend enjoying being with Kurt.

The last thing he expected when he entered the garage was to see the hobbit Warbler standing there, but lo and behold, there he was, looking extremely out of place with his fancy coat and immaculately gelled hair among all the cars and tools.

_What the fuck is HE doing here? First I catch him alone with Kurt in our room and now he's…what the hell, why is he talking to Dad?_

"I think it would be really cool if you took advantage of that," Blaine was saying as Carson walked closer. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping."

_Took advantage of WHAT? And what does he mean, overstepping? What the hell is going on here?_

"You are," said Burt pointedly. Blaine turned around and made to leave, looking slightly terrified as he came face to face with Carson, who said nothing. He just glared at the boy and pointed a finger in the direction of the door.

"What was _he_ doing here?" Carson asked his father as Blaine left. "And what was he talking about when he said overstepping?"

"Never mind about that," replied Burt, sounding tired. "Here, give me a hand with this engine, will you?"

Carson knew better than to push it, but he was burning with curiosity over what the fuck the hobbit was up to.

The pieces started to come together the next afternoon. Kurt and Carson were standing in the kitchen as Kurt made tea in preparation to catch up on his week's worth of recorded TV shows, when their father walked in and tossed what looked like a bunch of brochures on the center island. Carson peered at them for a second and instantly wished he hadn't when he realized what they were.

"What are those?" Kurt asked, sounding very uncomfortable indeed as he stared down at the pamphlets.

"Those are some pamphlets that I picked up from the free clinic," replied Burt. "I thought it might help the process along, because it is time that I had "the talk" with you boys."

_Oh, god. Fuck, no, this isn't happening right now. I'll die_, thought Carson.

"No, it's not," said Kurt quickly, his eyes growing as wide as saucers.

"Yes, it is," said their dad.

Carson looked down at his shoes and said nothing. Kurt stuck his fingers in his ears and began to chant "La la la la la" so that he didn't have to hear their dad talking.

"No, Dad, really, we do NOT need to have this conversation," said Carson. "I promise I'll remain celibate forever and I'll ward off any potential suitors for Kurt."

"Hey, you think this is easy for me?" asked Burt, gripping Kurt by the shoulders and leading him to a seat at the table. "Ok, believe me, I want to do this even less than you do. This is gonna suck for all three of us, but we're going to get through it together, and we'll all be better men because of it." He pointed at the seat next to Kurt, indicating that Carson should take it. Carson reluctantly obeyed, sitting down and beginning to play with his thumbnail, which he suddenly found very interesting.

"Now," said Burt, sliding a stack of pamphlets toward Kurt, "Most of the, um…mechanics of what you're gonna be doing is covered in the pamphlets, ok? And Carson, here," he continued, sliding a separate stack of pamphlets toward him. "I, uh…wasn't exactly sure which ones applied to you, so I got you all the same ones as Kurt. So there's some, uh…some gay specific ones and some on sex in general. So, I want you boys to read them and then I want you to come and talk to me about it."

Carson wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Or maybe for a hungry tiger to appear and eat him. Anything to get him out of this conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Kurt blushed furiously, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else but where he was.

"Deal?" asked Burt.

"Ok," Kurt said quickly, getting up from his seat and looking like he was preparing to run away. Carson jumped up and took his arm, desperate to lead him away and spare them both from this unspeakable embarrassment.

"Hey, sit down!" their dad said. "We're just getting started."

_Oh, fuck_, thought Carson, sitting reluctantly back down in his seat. Kurt did the same, his "Please, get me out of here" face growing even more intense.

"Alright. You know, for most guys, sex is just…you know…it's this thing that we always want to do. You know…it's fun, it feels great…"

_Jesus Chris, Dad, please stop talking, oh my GOD,_ thought Carson, feeling his face turning red at the sudden memory of how many compromising positions he had dreamed of Kurt being in. _Carson, oh fuck, STOP, this isn't going to make the embarrassment any less_. He wondered if Kurt was doing the same thing and remembering his own dreams about Blaine.

Ugh. Blaine. Carson suddenly had a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered the hobbit's mysterious conversation with Burt the day before at the garage. He just _knew_ that Blaine was responsible for this talk. He just knew it.

"But," Burt continued, "We're not really thinking too much about, you know…how it makes us feel on the inside, or, you know, how the other person feels about it."

"Women are different?" asked Kurt quietly.

"Only because they get that it's about something more than just the physical," replied Burt. "You know, when you're intimate with somebody in that way, you're exposing yourself. You know….you're never going to be more vulnerable, and that scares the hell out of a lot of guys. Believe me, I can't tell you how many buddies I've got who have gotten in way too deep with a girl who said she was cool with just hooking up.

"But that's not gonna happen to _me_, Dad," Kurt pointed out. Carson nodded for emphasis. He kind of wanted to say "Me either," but didn't.

_It won't happen to me because Kurt's kind of it for me_, he thought sadly.

"No. It's gonna be worse, ok? Because it's two guys," said Burt. "With two guys, you got _two_ people who think that sex is just sex. It's gonna be easier to come by, and once you start doing this stuff, you're not gonna want to stop. You got to know that it means something. You know, it's _doing_ something to you. To your heart. To your self-esteem. Even though it feels like you're just having fun."

Carson listened carefully to these words, letting them sink in. He was worried. He had a feeling that Kurt didn't view sex in that way. Kurt was a very romantic person. But other guys…not so much, most likely. He really wasn't joking when he said to Kurt that he worried about Blaine taking advantage of him. If the worst happened and Kurt started dating someone (anyone, not even just Blaine), the thought of him being pressured into things he wasn't ready for sent a shiver down Carson's spine and made his blood boil.

"So you're saying we shouldn't have sex?" asked Kurt, and Carson blushed at the way he had phrased that question.

"I think on your 30th birthday, it is a great gift to yourself," said Burt. Carson nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes. Yes, I agree. I think he should actually wait until he's 40. Or 50. Or, you know…never," he said. Both Kurt and Burt looked at him, Kurt with raised eyebrows and Burt with a small, amused smile.

"Boys, when you're ready, I want you to be able to….do everything. But when you're ready, I want you to use it as a way to connect to another person. Don't throw yourselves around like you don't matter. 'Cause you matter. Both of you."

There was a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, and then Kurt spoke up.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"That's it. For now," Burt said. Kurt gave him a small smile.

"Thanks, Dad," he said.

"You're welcome," replied Burt. Kurt gathered up his pamphlets and scurried out of the room, obviously eager to escape. Carson stayed in his seat, still mulling over his thoughts.

"Did you have any questions, Carson?" asked his dad, startling Carson a little. He hadn't realized his dad was still there.

"Just one, actually," he said, remembering Blaine. "What brought this on? It was Kurt's little troll friend, wasn't it? He was at the garage yesterday talking to you and all of a sudden you're ready to talk to us about sex."

Burt sighed. "He did try to convince me that I should discuss sex with Kurt, yes."

_WHAT?_

"He tried to what, now?" asked Carson. "I will _kill him. _How is Kurt's sex life any of his business? And how is it appropriate to go to someone's father, and-"

"Hey, calm down, ok? I mean, I was shocked he had the balls to say it, too, but it was a good thing if it finally got me to talk to you kids about sex," said Burt. Carson narrowed his eyes.

"I don't like him," he said.

"I know, kid," said Burt sympathetically, getting up from the table and patting Carson on the shoulder. "Read your pamphlets."

Carson took his stack and shuffled out of the kitchen, still thinking dark thoughts about Blaine. Who the hell did he think he was, going behind Kurt's back like that? Carson didn't even want to think about how embarrassed Kurt would feel if he knew. He decided he wouldn't tell him.

_But so help me, I will be fucking WATCHING you, Baldwin._

Kurt was sitting on their bed when Carson got upstairs, with his pamphlets spread out like a fan in front of him, his fingers gliding over them as if he were trying to figure out which one to read first. He looked up sharply when Carson entered and he blushed, shrinking away from the pamphlets like he didn't want to be seen even looking at them.

"Well," said Carson sitting beside him and tossing his own stack of pamphlets in front of him. "That was, to say the least, extremely awkward and embarrassing."

"Tell me about it," Kurt muttered. "Honestly, I'm sort of scared to read these, but I also know that I should. To, you know…be prepared."

"Be prepared for what?" asked Carson. "Did you think I was kidding when I said you should wait until you're 50 or even older?" Kurt gave him a funny look and then smiled.

"You're too much," he said. "Well, two can play that game, honey. If I'm not allowed to have sex until I'm 50, then neither are you."

"Oh really?" Carson said, raising one eyebrow.

"Yep," said Kurt. "Nobody's getting their hands on this," he said, drawing a circle in the air over Carson's body, "until they meet with my approval."

"I'm touched, Kurtsie."

"No, you're not. That's the whole point," said Kurt. "Now shut up and read your pamphlets."

They both settled against the pillows of the bed, silently working their way through the pamphlets as night fell around them, until Kurt let out a loud sigh and sat up.

"I can't absorb all this information. It's too much! It's making me never want to have sex, seriously," he said.

"Good," said Carson, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "One less thing I have to worry about, isn't it?"

"Very funny," said Kurt. "I can't read any more. I'm gonna go shower and do my face."

"Ok," said Carson, putting his glasses back on and continuing where he had left off on the gay sex pamphlet as Kurt disappeared into the bathroom. Honestly, they did make sex seem kind of terrifying.

_What the hell does "Injuries could occur without proper preparation, so prepare your partner carefully" mean? What kind of injuries are they talking about? _ For all that the pamphlets were supposed to be informative, they didn't actually clarify that part. Carson looked toward the bathroom door. The shower was going, and Kurt would be at least a half an hour in there. He liked to wash his hair twice and then condition.

He pulled out his laptop and opened his internet browser, making sure to open a private surfing window. He didn't need "Gay sex injuries" appearing in his browser history. Not that anyone ever really looked at his laptop, but Kurt used it sometimes. Carson would die of humiliation if Kurt saw what he was searching for.

Twenty minutes later, after a thorough education on just how many things could go wrong with anal sex, and a side trip to several websites that detailed how to properly prepare one's partner for penetration, Carson was determined to make sure Kurt never had sex if it meant protecting him from such possibilities.

_Oh my GOD_, he thought, _what if my worst nightmare happens and he starts dating the hobbit? I highly doubt that guy knows what the fuck he's doing. He'd hurt Kurt for sure, and then I would have to murder him. Kurt should top. I don't care so much if Billy gets hurt. Actually, that might be a bonus_.

"Hey, once I've got my pajamas on, do you wanna go downstairs and make a dent in those shows on the DVR?" asked Kurt, emerging from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his chest still wet from the shower. Carson gulped and tried not to be too obvious that he was staring.

"Sure. Yeah, let's do that."

* * *

Now that Kurt suspected that Carson felt a little more than just brotherly toward him, he wasn't sure how to act around him. How was a person supposed to act when they were feeling romantic things toward their own brother, and were about eighty percent sure that those feelings were returned in kind? It wasn't like there were rulebooks for this sort of thing. Every little interaction, every instance of sibling banter, and every lingering look between them now had a double meaning, and it honestly overwhelmed Kurt a little.

He wondered if he should tell Carson how he felt. A part of him wanted to so much, wanted to hear Carson say he felt the same and see what developed between them, especially since it felt like things were never going to get anywhere with Blaine. On the other hand, the thought of laying his heart out like that scared the hell out of him. What if he was wrong, and Carson really didn't feel like that about him? And if he was right, and Carson did like him in that way, then what? It wasn't like they could really be together, could they? It would have to be kept secret from everybody, and society would tear them apart.

He was so confused and had no idea how to approach Carson about it, so he said nothing. And it was eating him up inside. He couldn't stop himself now from imagining how it would be if he told him. If they were together in that way. He lay awake half the night after the pamphlet incident, just watching Carson sleep and pretending that they were lovers. He took in every contour of Carson's face, every freckle, every twitch of his nose as he reacted to whatever it was he was dreaming about. He felt the secure embrace of Carson's arms around him and pretended that they had just made love. The very thought of it overwhelmed him with emotions and he quickly focused his attention back on Carson's face. On his lips. He remembered how nice those lips had felt on his, and wished more than anything he could feel them again.

At some point, he realized that he had been softly stroking Carson's face with his thumb and had no idea how long he had been doing it. Even for someone who didn't have nearly the same dedication to skin care as Kurt did, Carson's skin was still very soft and felt really good, and Kurt kind of really wanted to kiss it.

So he did. He leaned his face in close to Carson's and placed a feathery soft kiss on his cheek, as close to his mouth as he dared. And then he did it again, letting the kiss linger a little longer this time. Carson smiled a little in his sleep, letting out a happy little sigh, and Kurt's heart thumped in his chest.

_I love you so much, Carsey. I wish I knew how to tell you that_.

He settled his head against Carson's chest and kissed him over his T-shirt before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

To say that Kurt's week started off on the wrong foot would have been a huge understatement. Blaine had apparently decided to scrap the whole sexy idea and go with Maroon 5's "Misery" as their Regionals opening number instead. Not that it really mattered, Kurt thought, since it was still more of the same, with Blaine singing lead and Kurt and the rest of the Warblers providing backup for him. Kurt seriously wondered if anyone _but_ Blaine ever got to sing lead in a Warblers number. Now that he thought about it, this didn't seem to be the case. It was always Blaine who sang lead, without fail.

"Sometimes, I don't feel like we're the Warblers," he had actually told Blaine after a rehearsal for the "Misery" number. "I feel like we're Blaine and the Pips." It just went to show how stressed and irritated he was, considering he did still have a bit of a crush on Blaine and normally he probably wouldn't have said anything to him because of that.

Blaine hadn't said anything, just stood there with his mouth open, looking absolutely shocked, as though he'd never even considered this before.

_Well, someone had to point it out_, said Kurt. _Carson would have been SO proud of me_.

Then Kurt had had to deal with the death of Pavarotti, the yellow canary which was a good luck charm for the Warblers, and that they had placed in Kurt's care soon after his arrival at Dalton. Kurt felt bad for the poor little thing. He had spent his whole life in a cage and had never even seen anything of the world. Kurt had delivered the sad news to the Warblers with an emotional performance of "Blackbird," if for nothing else than to make himself feel better.

And the cherry on the proverbial sundae was the fact that he couldn't get Carson out of his mind. Every time he called Carson to say goodnight, he came so very close to just blurting out "I love you, ok? I love you and I want to be with you forever!" He thought maybe he would at least feel better and less stressed if he just put it all out there. But still he said nothing.

Add the stress of preparing for regionals, and yes, this week was not going very well at all. Not until Wednesday, that is, when Blaine had called a Warblers council meeting to announce that he wanted to turn the first number at Regionals into a duet, which he wanted to sing with Kurt. No auditions required. Kurt had been shocked, to say the least. Since when did Blaine like sharing his spotlight? Kurt liked him and all, but he really did seem like the Rachel of Dalton Academy at times.

No matter, though. If it meant that he got to sing at Regionals, he wasn't going to complain. He was so happy that he immediately called Carson to share his good news (he just didn't tell him the part about no auditions being required. He didn't feel like hearing about how Blaine probably had some ulterior motive).

"Oh, Kurtsie, that's great!" Carson said, the smile evident in his voice. "I'm so proud of you! It's about time the hobbit shared the wealth a little. He's worse than Rachel when it comes to solos."

"I'm nervous now that I'm thinking about it, though," said Kurt. "I've never sung in front of so many people before. Not where all the attention is on me, anyway."

"Oh, don't worry about that," replied Carson. "You're the best singer ever. Your voice is gorgeous. Everyone is going to love you. Especially me."

Kurt swallowed, feeling the familiar urge to blurt out his feelings that he had been successfully suppressing so far. "You have to say that," he said, trying to sound teasing. "You're my big brother."

"Even if I wasn't, I would still love you, because you're you," said Carson. "Can't help it."

Kurt smiled to himself. _Say it, Kurt. Say it. Just do it. Just take a deep breath and-_

A shrill ringing from the other end of the line cut into his thoughts. "Oh, hey, Kurt? I have to go," said Carson. "Bell just rang. Call me back in an hour, ok?"

Kurt mentally shook himself and nodded, forgetting that Carson couldn't see him. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

"Great. And congratulations! I'm going to track Trollberry down today and brag, and then rub her face in it. She'll be so worried when she knows she has to compete against you," said Carson.

Kurt laughed. "Go to class, Carsey."

"Talk to you later, baby."

"Bye."

Kurt hung up the phone, pressing it to his chest and staring off into space. _Baby. He called me baby._

And right then and there, while riding the high of anticipating his first real performance in front of an audience, and with his heart full of joy from his conversation with Carson, he came to a decision. When he went home that weekend, he was going to tell Carson how he felt. He had to. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore.

He went up to his room and gathered the supplies he had accumulated to decorate Pavarotti's casket, bringing them down to the common room and setting them out on an empty table. He felt a little weird for being in such a good mood while preparing to bedazzle a casket, but stranger things had happened.

And the bird did deserve a nice box to be buried in.

Kurt set to work, his mood flagging a little as he thought about the poor bird. He was concentrating so much that Blaine's entrance into the room at first escaped his attention.

"What's that?" Blaine asked, and Kurt looked up.

"I'm decorating Pavarotti's casket," he replied.

"Well, finish up," said Blaine. "I have the perfect song for our number, and we should practice."

"Do tell!" said Kurt, curious what song Blaine had come up with.

"Candles, by Hey Monday," replied Blaine. Kurt was a little surprised. He didn't think that was the kind of song Blaine would be into.

"I'm impressed," he said, setting down his glue. "You're usually so Top 40."

"Well, I just wanted something a little more emotional," said Blaine, taking a seat at the table and looking like he was extremely nervous. Kurt realized he'd had the same nervous look on his face since he'd come into the room. A nagging thought floated around in his brain, refusing to come to the surface and crystallize completely, but he had a feeling he knew what it was anyway.

"Why did you pick me to sing that song with?" he asked Blaine, settling back in his chair and looking the other boy in the eyes.

"Kurt," he said, closing his eyes and looking like he was trying to gather up the courage to say whatever it was he was about to say, "There is a moment when you say to yourself, "Oh, there you are! I've been looking for you forever."

Kurt felt his heart leap into his throat as he suddenly realized where this was going. _Oh god, seriously? After all the "Let's just be friends" stuff, now he…oh, ok, that's a hand. That's his hand on my hand, and wow, it's really warm in here, and THOSE EYES, stop staring at me with those eyes…_

"Watching you do "Blackbird" this week…that was a moment for me. About you," Blaine continued. "You move me, Kurt."

Kurt was surprised that his heart didn't leap completely out of his body at this point and throw itself out one of the fancy windows of the common room.

"And this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you," Blaine finished, leaving Kurt wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. Not that it mattered, because suddenly Blaine's face was closing in on his, and before Kurt could really process what was happening, his lips were covered by Blaine's.

_Oh god oh god oh god…lips…kiss…this is kissing. Blaine is kissing me. Blaine, who isn't Carson, is kissing me and it actually feels really nice, but…but what about Carson?...should I stop the kiss?...WHAT DO I DO?_

He couldn't get his brain to get itself together enough to stop the kiss, so he just went with it, bringing a hand up to Blaine's face to deepen it. Blaine's lips weren't as soft as Carson's, which actually surprised Kurt a little, and he didn't exactly feel the electric spark that he felt when he kissed Carson, but it still felt nice. Nice enough that he was rather flustered when they finally parted from the kiss, and he knew his face was as red as a beet.

They sat there just staring at each other for a minute. Kurt had no idea what to say, or even how to think anymore, really. He was happy, but also so very,very confused, and even a little bit sad when he thought about what Carson's reaction would be if he knew about this.

Blaine let out a small laugh at last. "Uh, we should…we should practice," he said, sounding as flustered as Kurt felt.

"I thought we were," replied Kurt. They looked at one another for several more seconds, and then like magnets their lips were back on each other.

They never did get any practicing done for the song that afternoon.

But now Kurt was more confused than ever. He had just made his decision to tell Carson how he felt, and now he couldn't. The more he thought about it, the more he decided that maybe Blaine's timing was a blessing in disguise. What had he been thinking, planning to tell Carson all of that? What would he have done if Carson really did feel the same? Kurt was pretty sure incest was illegal, especially in Ohio, and if they were in a relationship and someone found out, then maybe their dad would get into some kind of trouble since they were underage. Not to mention the fact that both Kurt and Carson would be ostracized and bullied by everyone for the rest of their lives. Kurt was pretty used to being badly bullied, but Carson wasn't. Sure, he wasn't exactly popular, but nobody had ever gotten violent with him the way they had with Kurt. And if it slipped out that they were in a gay incestuous relationship, that's exactly what would happen. Kurt could pretty much guarantee it. The last thing he wanted was to put Carson through that.

No, it was better for everyone if he just kept it to himself. If nothing ever developed, then maybe they both would get over their feelings. And Kurt had Blaine now to help with that. Blaine was what he'd wanted, right?

_It's for the best, Kurt. It's for the best, it's for the best, it's for the best…._

* * *

Carson was in a good mood as he strolled through the front yard on Thursday afternoon, armed with half a dozen empty toilet paper rolls, just as many mini lanterns he had found in a box of Christmas decorations, duct tape, and some string. He was going to set up this week's practical joke on Finn, and since Finn had (shockingly) gotten smarter about getting up early on Friday mornings to avoid Carson, he was going to have to pull this off early. Not to mention that this prank really only would work at night.

He took the six paper rolls, each of which he had carefully cut holes into that were in the shape of eyes, and inserted one of the mini lanterns into each one, securing them in place with the duct tape. He checked to make sure that each lantern's cord was plugged into the nearby power strip and hidden from view, and then secured each roll to the bushes outside the house with the string. He fished the remote from his pocket that controlled the lanterns and clicked it. All six lanterns lit up. Perfect. He clicked it off and went back inside the house, smiling to himself when he thought about the seventh roll he had planted in Finn's room, with a battery operated light inside.

He was in an extra good mood because this weekend was the show choir regional competition, and he was looking forward to seeing Kurt perform with the Warblers the next afternoon. Kurt was singing a duet, and Carson couldn't wait to hear it. Sure, it was with Blaine, and Carson didn't like the idea of them practicing for hours alone together, but he was willing to ignore that for once and count this as progress. Maybe next time Kurt would get the solo he so richly deserved. Plus, Kurt would come home for the weekend after the competition, so Carson had two whole days of time with him to look forward to.

He waited until several hours after Finn had come home, when it was suitably dark outside but their parents still hadn't come home from work.

"Hey Finn," he said, walking into the kitchen and trying to sound as serious as possible. "Did you hear that noise just now?"

Finn looked up from the gigantic plate of pizza rolls he was consuming like there was no tomorrow and looked at him in confusion. "Huh? What noise?"

"I don't know…it was like, a scratching noise," Carson said. "Like maybe a raccoon or something is stuck outside. Or maybe it's a burglar. But either way, I think you should go check it out."

Finn frowned. "Why don't you do it?" he asked.

Carson sighed. "You're taller," he said, as if this was obvious and Finn should have known it. "So _you_ should go check."

Finn frowned again, but shrugged and got up from his seat, heading out the front door to go check out the mysterious noise. Carson shook his head, marveling at how fucking easy it was to convince Finn to do shit. He never even needed to be all that cunning. It was soothing, almost. _God, he's SUCH an idiot_.

He waited until he was reasonably sure that Finn was standing in front of the bushes, and then he clicked the button on the remote several times in a row before leaving it in the "on" position, a grin spreading across his face as he heard the high pitched scream coming from outside.

Finn practically barreled back into the house, slamming the door behind him. "Dude, there's something out there!" he panted. "It had glowing eyes."

"Glowing eyes, Finn? Really?" Carson asked, rolling his eyes and trying not to smile. "How many of those pizza rolls did you eat? I think all the processed cheese went to your brain."

"Dude, I know what I saw," Finn insisted. "I'm not crazy."

"Ok, show me," said Carson. Finn led him outside to the bushes and pointed.

"Right there," he said. They both waited, Carson biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Finn started stammering.

"There _were_ eyes, though," he murmured. "I know there were."

"Sure there were, Finn. Sure there were," said Carson.

The blood curdling scream Finn let out later that night as Carson clicked the second, smaller remote that controlled the lantern he had placed in his room just topped the evening off perfectly.

* * *

Carson thought he would never last until it was time to leave McKinley to drive to Regionals, but he managed. Since it was at the same venue as last year's competition, he remembered how to get backstage and did just that, intending to seek out Kurt and give him a good luck hug before it was the Warblers' turn to perform.

But which green room was theirs? He searched around, greeted with nothing but empty rooms, and wondered if maybe the Warblers hadn't gone backstage yet.

"What are you doing here, Dan Rather?" he heard a familiar voice say from behind him, and turned around to see Santana staring at him, her arms crossed. "You're not supposed to be back here. This is for the competing teams only."

"I'm here to see Kurt before he performs," retorted Carson, wondering why the hell Kurt ever would have thought he had a crush on this girl. "If that's ok with you, your highness."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Right, right. You're here to see your sweet porcelain lover. He's back that way, around the corner with the rest of the blazered freaks," she said, pointing down the hallway. "Berry was talking to him earlier."

Carson nodded, choosing to ignore the lover comment. Santana had been making similar cracks at his and Kurt's expense ever since the 7 Minutes in Heaven debacle, and it was old hat by now. He headed in the direction she had indicated and turned the corner, spotting Kurt instantly because he was standing by himself outside one of the doors, holding his phone in his hand and texting, by the looks of it. Carson was about to shout "Kurtsie!" when something happened that made his blood run cold.

Blaine came out of the room, smoothing that damn blazer down, and placed his hand on the back of Kurt's neck. Kurt turned his head to look at him and smiled, and then their lips were touching.

They were kissing. That fucking douche had his filthy lips on Kurt's, and they were kissing. And Kurt didn't look anxious, or uncomfortable, and he wasn't protesting. He wanted to be kissing the guy, clearly.

Carson felt sick. All the sound seemed to leave the air as the only thing he was able to hear was the hammering of his own heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears. He felt like someone had just taken a knife and twisted it into his heart. They may as well have. He wished someone had. It would have been less painful than what he was witnessing right now.

He wanted to scream, or cry, or march over there and yank Blaine off of Kurt, maybe even make it clear that if he so much as breathed on Kurt again he would be leaking hair gel out of his nose for the next fifteen years, but he didn't do anything. In the end, he just turned around the way he had came, while Kurt and Blaine were _still_ kissing, and hoped he could make it to his seat in the auditorium without throwing up.

The competition seemed to drag on forever, and Carson sat there stony faced, watching the whole thing but not really concentrating. The only performance he really took in was the Warblers' set, and that only made the imaginary knife pain in his heart worse. Kurt's voice was angelic as always, but the looks he was exchanging with the hobbit throughout their duet were like a fresh twist of the knife each time.

_How long has this been going on?_ Carson wondered. _It has to be fairly recent. They were still friends when Dad gave us the-_

He suddenly realized, to his absolute horror, that they must have started dating only after Blaine had asked Burt to give Kurt the sex talk. Not even a week after.

_I knew it. I fucking knew it. All this "let's be friends" stuff was a bunch of fucking bullshit. He was only waiting for the perfect moment to sink his claws into Kurt, and apparently the perfect moment is after Kurt's been thoroughly informed about sex. I will kill him. I will fucking murder him_.

At long last, all the teams had competed and the competition was over. Carson forgot his anger and sadness momentarily when the Warblers lost, and he could clearly see the disappointment evident on his twin's face.

_Poor baby_, he thought. _If they had let you sing alone, you guys would have won. Fucking Brandon brought the whole team down and destroyed your chances._

_Not to mention my life._

* * *

The ride home was awkward for Carson. He was still hurting, and he didn't trust himself to speak without crying. He hadn't said anything at all, actually, since he had hugged Kurt after the competition was over and said his comforting words about how they should have won. Thankfully, Blaine had kept his distance. He probably was worried Carson would do painful things to his balls if he came too close.

Other than that, Carson hadn't said a word the entire car ride. He drove in silence, concentrating on the road and looking anywhere but at Kurt. He didn't want to see Kurt's lips and remember them attached to Blaine's. Not unless he wanted the pain in his chest to worsen. Kurt seemed to sense that something was wrong and wasn't talking either until they were about halfway home.

"What's wrong, Carsey?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "It's not like you to look so sad. Actually, it…it kind of scares me a little. Is everything alright?"

Carson closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Nothing. Just, I…I'm sad for you. You know, Regionals and stuff," Carson lied. "I know how much you wanted to win."

He could see Kurt looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Kurt didn't believe him.

"No," he said slowly. "It's something else, I can tell-"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Carson blurted out, interrupting him. He kept his eyes straight ahead on the road. He wasn't going to cry, damn it. Not here. Not in front of Kurt. Never in front of him.

"Tell you what," Kurt said quietly, the tone of his voice indicating that he knew perfectly well what.

"I saw you. Backstage. With your lips all over Prince Dapper. Were you ever going to tell me about that or was it going to be a secret forever?" asked Carson. Kurt turned his head and looked out the window.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he said. "I was waiting for the right time."

"Such as when?" asked Carson.

"I don't know," said Kurt, sounding like he was about to cry. "I wanted to tell you in person. This weekend, maybe. I just…I know how you feel…about Blaine," he added quickly, "And I wanted to break the news to you g-gently." His voice was quivering now. Carson sighed and pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning to face Kurt.

"Please don't be mad at me," Kurt whispered.

"Kurt, it's ok," Carson said gently. "I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I just…well, you know I don't trust that guy and I worry about you. I worry all the time."

"I know," said Kurt, looking at him with glistening eyes. "I know how much you worry. And I knew you wouldn't take the news well, and I…I guess I was just trying to find the best way to tell you."

Carson absentmindedly traced his finger across the steering wheel, hoping it would distract him from the lump in his throat.

"I really do like him," Kurt continued, his voice sounding pleading. "And I _really_want this to work. I need it to."

Carson swallowed. The lump was still there.

"Say something, Carsey. Please?" Kurt asked desperately.

Carson closed his eyes and reached for Kurt's hand. "If he honestly makes you happy, Kurt, then I'm fine. That's all I ever want. For you to be happy. Does he do that? Does he make you happy?"

Kurt hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes," he said, not sounding certain at all. The sureness and confidence he usually had in his voice wasn't there, but Carson didn't want to push it.

"Come here," he said, reaching his arms out. Kurt entered them eagerly, and they hugged each other close, Carson feeling like heart was ripping in half as he felt Kurt whisper "Thank you" into his neck.

"I'll be watching Bobby very closely," he said as they continued hugging. "Very, very, VERY closely."

He felt Kurt smile against his skin. "I know you will, Carsey."

_And if he so much as dares to break your heart, I will break his face. And his legs. And everything he holds dear._


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Not much to say here, except that our readers are sunshine and rainbows and we love you all. Now, let's check in on how Carson is doing now that Kurt is dating Billy Warbler.**

Carson sat stiffly on the couch, waiting for Kurt to walk in the door and wishing (not for the first time) that he had just killed the Warbler guy the night he met him at Breadstix. The past several weeks that Kurt and Blaine had been an official couple had not been fun for him. He still wasn't used to the idea that Kurt was dating, and dating such a douche on top of it. Because Blaine didn't make it easy to even pretend to like him. Hell, he didn't make it easy for Carson to even tolerate him most of the time. And it wasn't even just because he always looked like he just stepped off the set of one of the 1950s musicals Kurt loved, with his stupid blazer and his stupid hair gel and his stupid habit of sitting up as straight as a fucking stick when he was seated, even when he was on the couch. It wasn't even just that he was essentially stealing Kurt away from Carson by monopolizing most of Kurt's time on the weekends, whether by taking him out or hanging around the Hummel/Hudson house like he fucking lived there. No, everything about the guy rubbed Carson the wrong way now that he was seeing him so much more often.

His favorite topic of conversation seemed to be himself, for starters. No matter what was being talked about, Blaine somehow found a way to redirect the conversation back to either himself or the Warblers. Even a casual mention of the warmer weather by Burt ended up turning into a list of reasons why Blaine preferred colder weather (apparently, the fact that warm weather wreaked havoc with the billions of pounds of gel he used in his hair was right there at the top).

And worst of all, Carson genuinely didn't like the way he treated Kurt. It wasn't like he overtly treated him badly by yelling at him or physically hurting him or anything (not that Carson saw, anyway, and you'd better believe if he ever witnessed such a thing, Blaine wouldn't have any teeth or testicles left), but it was just the little, subtle things that irritated the fuck out of Carson.

Like the fact that he had the annoying habit of interrupting as Kurt was about to talk in order to speak _for_ him. And the fact that he sometimes made subtle, disparaging comments about Kurt's clothing ("Are you sure you want to wear _that_scarf?") And the fact that it was apparently always him who picked what he and Kurt did when they went out. And the fact that he just in general didn't seem to really appreciate what a precious gift he had been given when Kurt had chosen him. Carson didn't understand why Kurt couldn't realize that he deserved so much better. But Kurt claimed that he was happy with Blaine, and it was for his sake that Carson really tried to keep his negative opinions about Blaine to himself. Even if it was slowly killing him inside to see the love of his life with someone else.

Well…he _tried_. Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself. For instance, he hadn't been able to stop himself from taking the opportunity one Saturday afternoon while Kurt had momentarily left the living room to lay down the law with Mr. Disney Prince.

"Ok, listen, Hair Gel, here's the deal," he had said, turning to Blaine and using his firmest sounding voice. "I know you have everybody wrapped around your finger with your whole dapper, charming schoolboy act, but I'm not so easily won over. Especially not now that, despite my vehement objections, you've somehow managed to start dating Kurt, and _especially_ that you started dating Kurt only after you made sure that our father gave him a talk about sex. Kurt and I are extremely close. When he suffers, I suffer. So I just want you to know that if at any point you hurt him, break his heart, or try to pressure him into things he isn't ready for, there will be consequences. I know you've been to my father's garage. You've seen all the things there that could be used as potential weapons. And I'll have you know that I'm quite skilled with a tire iron. I doubt you'd be missed all that much."

Blaine had listened to this whole speech with wide eyes, but he didn't have time to reply before Kurt came back into the room. He'd developed a slightly terrified facial expression around Carson ever since, though, which amused Carson greatly.

And the fact that Kurt was at Dalton all week long with the guy worried the hell out of Carson. He couldn't get the thought of Blaine sneaking into Kurt's room and trying all kinds of unsavory things with him out of his mind, and the very thought made him want to throw up. He took to calling Kurt several times a night just to make sure that he was ok.

"Carson, what the hell?" Kurt had grumbled tiredly into the phone after the fourth night of this. "It's almost 11:00."

"I'm sorry, Kurtsie. Were you sleeping?"

Kurt's exasperated sigh on the other end of the line almost blew out Carson's eardrum. "No, Carson. Actually, Blaine snuck in here and we were making mad, passionate love right when you called, and we will continue after you hang up."

"_What?_" Carson exclaimed.

"Mmm, yeah. He's leaving a hickey on me right now, and you don't even wanna know where," Kurt continued.

"Kurt!"

Kurt snorted. "I'm _kidding_, Carson. You don't have to worry about that."

Carson breathed a sigh of relief. "Good."

"Yeah, you totally don't have to worry about Blaine sneaking in here after bed check when there's close to zero chance of getting caught-"

"Kurt!"

Kurt giggled. "Carsey, once again, I'm kidding. But seriously, enough with the random nighttime calls, ok? You're wreaking havoc on my sleep, and if I don't get at least eight hours of beauty rest, it's bad for my skin."

Carson sighed. "Ok. I'm sorry. I just worry."

"I know you do, baby. But I'm fine, ok? Blaine is all the way down the hall in his own room, nowhere near me. And that's how it is every night. I promise," said Kurt.

"OK. Good night," said Carson. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

So Carson had stopped, but he still worried. He didn't trust Blaine not to be a sneaky bastard and try something one day.

Tonight, Blaine had taken Kurt to the movies, and Carson had made sure to give his usual speech as the two of them left the house.

"Brad, I trust you're going to obey all the speed limits and drive carefully?" he had said to Blaine, with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed to look as menacing as possible.

"Of course," said Blaine as Kurt slipped on his coat.

"Because," Carson continued. "Kurt is my precious baby brother and means the world to me. I don't think I need to tell you that if something happened to him, I would _not_ react kindly."

Blaine nodded as Kurt blushed furiously, fussing with the buttons of his coat. "Of course, Carson," he said, obviously accustomed to this little exchange by now. "I know how close you and Kurt are, and I promise to get him home to you safe and sound after the movie."

"Good," said Carson. "Because if he's not in exactly the same condition when he comes home as he's in right now, well…" he trailed off, plastering an evil smile on his face. "Just remember. Tire iron."

Burt, who was sitting in his favorite chair and pretending not to watch the scene unfolding by the door, gave a small chuckle. "I think you've made your point, Carson. No need to terrify the boy."

"Thank you, Dad," said Kurt, finishing with his coat and smiling at Carson as he gave him a tight hug. "I'll be fine, Carsey," he said. "I'll see you when I get back, ok? Don't worry." He tentatively gave Carson a kiss on the cheek, and Carson willed his face not to flush.

"The movie is exactly two hours long, and allowing for traffic, it should take you no more than twenty minutes to get him home," Carson added in Blaine's direction. "I fully expect him home by 10:35."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You worry too much, Carson," he said, grabbing Blaine's arm and leading him out the door.

"Make sure you come to a complete stop at red lights, Blake!" Carson called as the door closed behind them. He peeked through the curtains on the living room window and watched as the two boys got into Blaine's car and Blaine started the engine, backing down the driveway entirely too fast, Carson thought.

"He'll be ok, kid," said Burt. "No need to be such a worrywart."

"I have to be," Carson mumbled, flopping onto the couch with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "Kurt doesn't worry enough about himself."

And there he had stayed for the entire evening, leaving only to go get his laptop from his and Kurt's bedroom. He kept it open on his lap, but he wasn't actually using it. He had his eyes firmly planted on the front door, waiting for Kurt to come home so that he could stop worrying. He checked his watch. 10:30.

_You have five minutes, hobbit_, he thought, absentmindedly tapping his foot. _Five minutes to get my baby home or I swear I will destroy every container of hair gel in the entire state of Ohio._

Thankfully, the front door opened right at 10:35 and Kurt walked in, waving exaggeratedly at Carson and giving him a big smile. Carson was relieved to see that Blaine wasn't with him, although he was a little irritated that the other boy had apparently not walked Kurt to the door. _Not as much of a gentleman as you'd like people to think, are you Braxton?_

"I'm home!" said Kurt, crossing over to Carson without even taking his jacket and scarf off first and plopping himself right into his lap. "Miss me?" he asked, giving Carson a big kiss on the cheek.

"All night," answered Carson, closing his eyes and allowing himself to enjoy the kiss for a second. "Did you have fun?"

"Oh…yeah," said Kurt. "The movie was weird, though. Not really my cup of tea."

"That's because Brock only cares about what he wants to do," said Carson. "Heaven forbid he let you pick the movie once in a while." He made to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist and stopped cold when he noticed something on the skin on Kurt's neck, peering out from underneath his scarf, right below his ear. Something slightly purple. Something that looked an awful lot like a hickey.

"What is _that_?" he asked, unable to keep his voice casual as he pointed at it. Kurt's eyes grew wide and he started to stammer.

"Oh! It's…um…well…" he babbled, his fingers brushing up against the mark.

"It's a hickey," Carson said, reaching up to brush away the fabric of Kurt's scarf. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, sucking in a breath when he saw the whole thing. "The damn thing is _huge_! Are you dating a fucking vampire?"

Kurt sighed as he got up off of Carson and removed his coat. "Maybe Blaine got a little carried away," he murmured, hanging the coat up in the small closet by the front door.

"A little? It looks like he was trying to eat you," said Carson, crossing his arms and not even caring how much he was sulking. "Clearly, I should have had a talk with him about trying to drain you of all your blood. I'll be sure to do that next time he takes you out, _if_ I don't kill him first before he gets the chance."

"Oh, Carsey," said Kurt, sticking out his bottom lip and giving Carson his pout as he crossed back over to him. "Come on, you know I still love you the most." He gently closed Carson's laptop and took his hands, pulling him up off the couch and wrapping him in a hug.

"The most?" repeated Carson, his head cradled in the crook of Kurt's shoulder.

"Always," said Kurt. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I'm tired."

* * *

The next day was quite awkward for Kurt, as all days tended to be whenever Blaine and Carson were around each other for extended periods of time, and doubly so, since it was Saturday. Since he'd started dating Blaine, Kurt had tried to always keep Saturday free for Carson, so that the two of them could spend time together. He knew that Carson was unhappy about Blaine, and he felt awful about it. He didn't even have the heart to get all that angry with him when he came home one weekend to find that Carson had attached Blaine's school photo to a dartboard and hung the board on the back of their bedroom door.

"Carson, what's this?" he'd asked when he first saw it. The photo was full of holes, especially around Blaine's face. Carson had clearly been throwing his fair share of darts at it.

"It's very therapeutic," Carson had replied with a shrug. "Sometimes I just need to throw sharp objects at something, and that something may as well be Bostwick's face. Especially since he's horning in on the only days I ever really get to see you."

Kurt had just sighed. He knew that Carson missed their uninterrupted weekends. Kurt missed them too. Having a boyfriend was nice and all, but the "relationship" status between him and Blaine was still so new that Kurt usually felt like he was walking on eggshells to impress him more often than not. Setting aside Saturday at least guaranteed him one day where he could just be with Carson and relax without having to worry about impressing anyone. Carson loved him just the way he was.

This Saturday was the day that the McKinley glee club was performing its "Night of Neglect," though, and since Blaine had been with Kurt when Rachel told him about it, Kurt had felt like he should invite him along to see it. He hadn't expected Blaine to show up at his house a whole six hours before the benefit even began, but expected or not, there he was. And it had been one of the longest days of Kurt's entire life. Carson was clearly less than thrilled with their houseguest, and his displeasure with the situation was evident.

"Oh. Ben. You're here. Extremely, irresponsibly early. How lucky for us," Carson had muttered when Blaine arrived. Kurt shot him a look that he hoped said _"I know you're disappointed, Carsey, but PLEASE try to be polite?"_

Apparently it hadn't been effective, because the next words out of Carson's mouth had been "So, Bernie, what was the deal with the bruise the size of Texas that you left on my brother's neck last night? Clearly, I need to amend my pre-date speech to include a rule about leaving marks. He is not a piece of meat."

_Oh god, Carson, please?_ Kurt pleaded in his head, knowing that his face was probably as red as a tomato at the moment . _You're embarrassing me._

Blaine, whose face wasn't exactly its normal color either, just cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "I, uh…"

"When I say to bring him back in the same condition as when he left, that includes the skin on his neck, and _all_ other parts of his body, remaining blemish-free," Carson continued. "See that you remember this next time."

Blaine looked to Kurt for help. Kurt clasped his hands together and looked from Carson to Blaine, plastering a smile on his face. He would make this as pleasant as possible if it killed him.

"Ok, well, Carson and I were just about to have a little movie marathon," Kurt said to Blaine. "Since you're here, why don't you join us?"

Blaine looked relieved. "Sounds good," he said, following Kurt over to the couch. Carson wasted no time wedging himself between them before Blaine had the chance to sit down.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you Brian?" Carson asked sweetly, slinging one arm over Kurt's shoulder possessively, which was definitely making Kurt's stomach do weird things. "The middle of the couch is just my _favorite_, you know."

Blaine just looked at him curiously and shook his head. "Uh, no. No, that's….that's fine, Carson," he said, sitting stiffly in his seat.

Kurt thanked his lucky stars that movie watching was a fairly passive activity and didn't require much interaction between the three of them, because it was awkward enough sitting with Carson and Blaine without having to add any more stress. Nobody said much. Carson kept his arm around Kurt the entire time, pressing him close to his side, and Kurt eventually ended up with his head resting on his shoulder, just like he usually did when they sat next to each other. It was just natural to him, sitting that way. He caught Blaine looking at them curiously once or twice, but made sure to give him a reassuring smile each time. He couldn't blame the poor guy for being uncomfortable. Kurt had no idea what it felt like to be on Carson's bad side, having never been on it before, but it had to suck.

Kurt was glad when the time finally came to leave for McKinley for the benefit, because the awkward silence was getting to be too much. They got there early enough for him to give Blaine a tour of his old school, with Carson watching them like a hawk and occasionally interrupting with a snarky comment or two.

"And that was the Spanish classroom," Kurt said, pointing to the door of Mr. Schuester's class as Blaine nodded politely. "And, of course, you know the choir room."

"The room where intelligence goes to die," Carson muttered.

"Hey, you guys! You'd better get to the auditorium. The show's about to start!" said Brittany, wheeling Artie down the hall toward them.

"It's gonna be a full house. Gotta get there early to get a good seat," added Artie.

"We'll be there in a minute," said Kurt. "I'm just showing Blaine around."

"Thanks for coming and supporting us, guys. It's really cool," said Artie as he and Brittany disappeared down the hall toward the auditorium.

"I think Artie's delusional," said Carson, once the other boy was out of earshot. "With Trollbery as one of the performers, they'll be lucky to have ten people in that audience, tops."

Blaine looked confused. "Trollberry?"

"Oh," said Kurt. "That's just what he calls Rachel."

"You should hear what I call you," said Carson cheerfully to Blaine.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" said a familiar voice behind them. Kurt stiffened as he recognized it, and he felt Carson reach for his hand and grab it, holding it tight.

"We're here for the benefit," he said, turning to face Karofsky. "Don't tell me_you're_ going."

"I wouldn't be caught dead," replied Karofsky. "I was pumping iron in the gym, and someone told me you two were here, spreading your fairy dust all over the place," he said, indicating Kurt and Blaine, ignoring Carson altogether other than a slightly uncomfortable glance in his direction.

"One more word, Karofsky, and I will make you regret it," said Carson through clenched teeth, his grip on Kurt's hand tightening.

"Will you just give it up?" said Blaine, looking Karofsky in the eye, which Kurt thought was pretty brave of him, considering how small he was. "Live whatever lie you want, but don't pretend that the four of us don't know what's really going on here."

"You don't know squat, butt boy," Karofsky retorted. This seemed to set Blaine off, because the next thing Kurt knew, his boyfriend was pushing at Karofsky angrily, not that it had much effect on him, and Karofsky was pushing right back. It was obvious that a fight was about to go down, and it was also obvious who would come out the winner.

"Carson," Kurt pleaded. "Blaine will get hurt."

Carson sighed and let go of his hand, going over to where Karofsky and Blaine were still swinging at each other. "Ok, Hulk, Frodo, break it up," he said, trying unsuccessfully to wedge himself between the two boys.

"I said break it up!" he repeated, rolling his eyes and reaching for the back of Blaine's jacket, trying to drag him away from the larger boy. He grabbed him around the waist when that didn't work, looking extremely disgusted as he did so, and actually lifted Blaine up off the ground as Blaine continued swinging his fists at Karofsky. The sight would have been comical if Kurt wasn't so worried for both his brother and his boyfriend.

"Stop!" said a familiar girl's voice, and suddenly Santana was walking right over to the fight in progress and taking charge, placing herself between Karofsky and the squirming mass that was Blaine and Carson. Karofsky stopped swinging. So did Blaine. Carson dropped Blaine like he was a hot potato and wiped his hands on his jeans, as though he had been holding something filthy.

"Yeah, real brave with your fists, but you're a coward when it comes to the truth," said Kurt angrily, checking Carson over for scrapes or bruising before doing the same to Blaine.

"Truth about what?" asked Santana. _Oops. Shouldn't have said that in front of her. What is she even doing here? Carson's not interested in you, Santana, ok? Back off._

"It's none of your business, J. Lo," retorted Karofsky.

"First of all," said Santana hotly, "Anything you do _became_ my business when you decided to toss that Slushie up in my grill."

"I think I can take a couple of queers and a girl," said Karofsky, looking between Kurt and Blaine and back to Santana.

"Hey!" yelled Carson, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist protectively. "If you lay one finger on Kurt, or, for that matter, Santana or Barry, I _will_ put you in the hospital. I beat you up once. I'll do it again, I promise you.

Santana chuckled and patted Carson lightly on the shoulder, which didn't escape Kurt's attention as he put his arm around Carson's shoulder and pressed himself as close to him as he could get.

"Ok, see, here's what's gonna go down," said Santana, getting up in Karofsky's face. "Two choices. You stay here and I crack one of your nuts. Right or left, that's your choice. Or, you walk away and live to be a douchebag another day."

"Ok, that was brilliant," said Carson under his breath. Kurt pressed himself even closer to Carson's side.

"And also, I have razor blades hidden in my hair," Santana added. "Mm-hmm. Tons. Just all up in there."

Karofsky grunted and headed back the hallway in the direction he had come from. Kurt heard Carson breathe a small sigh of relief.

"I really hate that asshole," he muttered, letting go of Kurt's waist, much to Kurt's regret, and taking his hand again instead.

"We could have handled that," Blaine said to Santana.

"Yeah, your completely ineffective pushes at Karofsky were totally showing him," said Carson with an eye roll. "I think he might have swayed a little from that first push that he wasn't expecting. Or it could have been a trick of the light."

"Carson," said Kurt in a warning whisper, stroking his thumb along Carson's knuckles. "Come on."

"It was more fun doing it together," said Santana in response to Blaine before rushing off down the hallway at the apparently bad news that had just come through on her phone. The three boys looked around awkwardly. Kurt was still clinging to Carson's hand, and Blaine's hands were in his pockets as he looked down at the ground.

"Ahem," said Blaine, clearing his throat and turning to Carson. "I, uh…thank you."

"For what?" asked Carson, clearly confused.

"For trying to break up the fight, and for…you know…defending us in front of Karofsky," said Blaine. "All of us."

Carson shrugged. "Yeah, well. If you'd been crushed to hobbit dust, Kurt would have been upset. I don't like it when Kurt is upset. Make no mistake, this doesn't mean that we're friends or that I suddenly like you or approve of you trying to suck out Kurt's soul through his neck." Kurt blushed, and Blaine seemed to accept that this was as close to a "You're welcome" as he was going to get from Carson and gave him a small, uncomfortable smile.

"Why don't we go to the auditorium?" asked Kurt, desperate to just get out of the damn hallway before things became any more uncomfortable between the three of them.

"Good idea," said Blaine, taking Kurt's other hand with his mega-watt grin firmly in place.

"Yeah, let's go watch Trollberry ruin another classic," said Carson, raising his eyebrows a little at the sight of Blaine and Kurt's hands entwined together, but thankfully not commenting on it.

* * *

The next week was a long and stressful one for Carson. First of all, he seemed to have a fucking mountain of assignments to get through that were all due at the same time. Geometry in particular was kicking his ass, and he wished he knew who the jackass was who had invented math so that he could go back in time and kick them in the dick. Or the ovaries. Whichever.

Secondly, he'd all but given up on the Writer's Club. He liked Malerie, he really did (as well as he was capable of liking someone who wasn't Kurt, anyway), but he just didn't have the energy to deal with her idea of short story writing. In the past couple of weeks, she had tried to pass off the plots of _Matilda, Dracula, The Phantom of the Opera, Little Women, _and _The Shining_ as her own work, and he'd really just been too exhausted (and depressed, considering everything going on in his life at the moment) to even care. He didn't put nearly as much effort into publishing new material for the paper as he usually did, although he did run a story about some anti-bullying thing that Santana had started with Karofsky, which both intrigued and irritated him. Where the fuck did Karofsky, of all people, get off starting an anti-bullying program when he had been the one to drive Kurt out of McKinley and straight into that douchebag Warbler's arms, effectively ruining Carson's life? Carson didn't trust him. And Santana's claim that she was helping him in order to "rehabilitate" him was just weird. Carson was just glad that Kurt wasn't around. He had no idea what Karofsky was really up to, but whatever it was, it was _not_ going to affect Kurt.

Carson also had a feeling that there was something going on that his father wasn't telling him. Burt had been acting really secretive lately, and Carson thought he had seen him at school one morning, but he hadn't been sure. And on top of everything else, Kurt didn't seem to have much time to talk this week, and when he did talk to Carson, he sounded stressed out and distracted._Probably too busy spending time with Prince Charming of Hair Gel Kingdom to want to talk to me_, thought Carson sadly.

The only good thing that happened that week was that Finn had apparently broken Rachel's nose by accident during a glee rehearsal. Carson had cackled with laughter when he'd heard Finn talking to Carole about it at home the day it happened.

"Oh my _God_," he had said gleefully. "Oh man, I wish I was still in glee club _just_so I could have seen that."

"It wasn't my fault, though," Finn whined. "I was dancing and I just, like, knocked right into her. "

Carson snorted. "Well, Finn, I never thought this day would come, but your lame dancing has finally been useful for something. Congratulations." Finn had just given him an unamused glare.

Other than that small ray of sunshine, Carson's week was sucking pretty hard. By Thursday, he was _so_ ready for the weekend to come so that he could see Kurt and forget about school and everything else. Sure, he would have to share Kurt with fucking Blaine, but oh well. He'd still have Saturday with him. He always had Saturday. Kurt always made sure of that. Blaine showing up last Saturday unexpectedly had been a one-time thing, and Carson hoped it stayed that way.

He held a half-hearted Writers' Club meeting with Malerie at lunch, and somehow managed not to bash his face against the desk when she said she had a new short story to share with him.

"Let's hear it, Malerie," he said with a sigh. She smiled and produced a yellow notebook from her bag, opening it and clearing her throat before beginning to read.

"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife. Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles…."

"Malerie," Carson interrupted her, his face buried in his arms to keep himself from screaming. "You didn't write that. L. Frank Baum wrote that. Because that's_The Wizard of Oz_."

"Oh," said Malerie quietly. "Ok. You got me. I'll try again another day, then."

"Can't wait," said Carson, saying a silent prayer of thanks as he looked at the clock, which indicated there was only ten minutes left of lunch period. "Why don't we wrap it up for the day, ok? I'll see you at the next meeting."

"Ok," she agreed, packing her notebook carefully back into her bag and grabbing her video camera. "Bye!" she called cheerily, heading out the door of the journalism classroom. Carson heaved a huge sigh and gathered his own bag, heading out of the classroom and down the hall toward his locker. He had civics class next, which he didn't particularly enjoy, but at least it wasn't math.

He reached his locker and opened it, shoving his English book inside and taking out his Civics book, as well as the dreaded Geometry textbook, which he grimaced at with great dislike. _Fuck you, Geometry_, he thought bitterly as he placed it in his bag.

Suddenly, his vision was cut off as a pair of hands placed themselves over his eyes. He was about to yell and ask what the fuck someone's problem was, when he realized that those hands felt awfully familiar. And were really soft. And smelled vaguely of lilac scented lotion.

And there was only one person he knew who had pretty smelling, soft hands like that.

"Guess who," he heard Kurt say softly into his ear. Carson smiled so wide he knew that all his teeth were probably showing.

"Kurtsie!" he exclaimed happily, turning around and looking right into Kurt's sweet, perfect, smiling face. He tossed his bag down on the ground and threw his arms around his twin, holding him tightly and actually laughing right there in the middle of the hallway, he was so happy to see him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be at Dalton right now? God, why do I even care? You're _here_, and I'm so happy to see you, you have no idea!"

"Actually, I transferred back here," said Kurt calmly. Carson lifted his face away from Kurt's shoulder and looked at him in shock.

"You what?" he asked. "But…Dalton…and what about Karofsky, and…" A million thoughts raced through Carson's mind. He thought about Karofsky and Santana and their weird Red Beret thing they'd started, and about everything Karofsky had done to Kurt before. Carson couldn't have that happen again. He just couldn't. But…having Kurt back again would just be wonderful, and he wouldn't have to just settle for Saturdays anymore. And he could sleep with him again every night.

"Don't worry," said Kurt quietly, looking around the hall to make sure he wasn't being overheard. "Karofsky and I had a talk the other day and we came to…an understanding, I guess you could call it. He's not going to be bothering me from now on. Or anyone."

"An understanding?" asked Carson. "I don't know, Kurt. I still don't trust him. And how come you didn't tell me you were thinking of transferring back?"

"I trust him," answered Kurt. "You should just trust me. And I didn't tell you because, well…I guess I didn't want to get your hopes up until I'd actually decided for sure to transfer back. I asked Dad not to tell you."

"Dalton is safer," Carson said slowly.

"Yeah, maybe. It's also boring and I have to wear the same outfit every day," Kurt pointed out. "Plus, it doesn't have you."

Carson smiled. "And the best part is that you're not around Broderick all the time."

"See? There you go," said Kurt, humoring him. "God, I've missed you so much," he added, wrapping Carson in a hug again. Carson hugged him back and sighed happily.

"I've missed you too, Kurtsie. So much."

"Aaaw, how sweet," said Santana's voice behind Carson. "Katie Couric and his lover Porcelain are back together again. I'd be touched if I had a heart."

Carson broke from Kurt's embrace and turned to face her. "Shut up, Santana."

"Calm your balls, Hummel, ok? You should be thanking me. It was mine and Karofsky's idea to start the Red Berets and make the school safe again so that your twin prince could roam the halls without fear once more," she replied, examining her nails.

The bell rang then, indicating that Carson was about to be very late indeed to his Civics class, not that he really cared. Because now he had Kurt back, and he was suddenly full of a renewed energy that just made him feel _alive_. He felt like he could do anything. It felt great.

"Hey," said Kurt, taking Carson's hand and squeezing it gently. "I've got to go, but I'll see you in glee club after school, ok?"

Carson had almost forgotten that glee club existed these past few months, but he nodded and smiled. "Glee club," he agreed, squeezing Kurt's hand back before Kurt patted him on the cheek and disappeared down the hall, giving Santana a slight glare as he passed her.

_Well, what do you know? _ Carson thought with a grin, not even caring that Santana was staring at him weirdly. _This week didn't suck after all_.

* * *

Their first assignment as part of the glee club again turned out to be performing Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" while wearing custom T-shirts that they were supposed to decorate with words that describe what they perceived as their biggest flaws.

"Well obviously, your T-shirt should be blank," Carson said to Kurt as they took the T-shirts Ms. Pillsbury gave them to the choir room to use the letter press she had set up in there. "You don't have any flaws."

"Funny, Carsey," Kurt replied, looking at his shirt thoughtfully. "I don't know, I think I have a few ideas for this thing."

"Kurt, I'm serious," Carson said. "You don't have any flaws at all."

"Oh really?" asked Kurt. "Tell me, what do you plan to put on yours?"

Carson thought about it for a minute. "Know what? Nothing. I'm not putting anything on mine. Not because I think I have no flaws, even though I don't. No. I'm not doing it because I just don't feel like it. Plus, I'm not even planning to perform the number with you guys."

Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked like he wasn't sure whether or not to laugh. "Really? You can't think of _one_ flaw you might have?"

"Nope. The only person more perfect than me is, well…you," said Carson, patting Kurt on the arm. "I'm serious, though, we should both just wear blank T-shirts. I wonder what Trollberry is putting on hers. She has a list a mile long to choose from," he mused, looking over the clothesline strung across the choir room where everybody else's shirts had been hung to dry.

"Dunno," said Kurt. "But I think I've decided on mine." He set up his shirt at the press and got to work, humming a song under his breath.

"Are you gonna tell me what it is?" asked Carson curiously.

"You'll see," said Kurt cheerfully.

"I like having you back," said Carson quietly, leaning against the wall of the choir room and looking fondly at his twin, watching him as he worked.

Kurt smiled. "I like being back. Dalton was great, and I…made friends," he said awkwardly, obviously trying to avoid mentioning Blaine, "but I really missed it here. I missed glee, and most of all, I missed you." He finished his shirt and held it up carefully for Carson to see. He had written "LIKES BOYS" on it. Carson frowned.

"Kurt, that's not a flaw," he said. "That's not even close to being a flaw."

Kurt nodded. "I know. But I think it fits the spirit of the song. It's something I was born with that I can't change, and wouldn't want to."

Carson kept his gaze on the shirt. "It's not too late to make a shirt with an actual flaw. You could put "Likes Bradley." That's a pretty big flaw. Or, actually…you know what? No. Keep the shirt the way it is. "LIKES BOYS" actually does count as a flaw, because you shouldn't like _anyone_, because then I wouldn't have to worry about you so much."

"Oh, Carsey. I thought you said I was flawless," said Kurt cheekily. "You've already said it. Can't take it back now."

"I was wrong. Your one flaw is that you have a weird fetish for men who don't deserve you."

Kurt rolled his eyes and hung his shirt on the clothesline right beside one that said "LUCY CABOOSEY." He grabbed Carson's hand and pressed it to his lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles and making Carson's stomach do a flip.

"To be fair," he said, "you don't think _anyone_ deserves me."

"Only because it's the truth," said Carson. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Despite the fact that he didn't approve of Kurt "liking" anyone, Carson had to admit that his twin looked damn sexy in that shirt. The performance of "Born This Way" the next afternoon was _hot_ thanks to him, and Carson was seriously glad he had opted to just sit in the audience wearing his completely blank shirt, because he probably wouldn't have been able to concentrate anyway if he had joined the club onstage. As it was, he knew his dick was in trouble when Kurt started the song off, looking very un-Kurt like with his hair all messed up. It looked for all the world like he had just finished a really hot makeout session.

_Not with Billy, though_, Carson thought to himself. _I…I can pretend it was with me, can't I? It's my mind, I can do what I want…Ok, Tina, Mercedes, you've touched him enough, let's back off now, ok?...Oh, you were just going to open his coat…god, that's sexy…Fuck, Kurt, you've got to stop dancing like that, baby, I…I can't…FUCK, every time. An extremely hormonal dick is the fucking WORST part of being a teenager, I swear…whatever, it's dark. No one can see. Oh god, he's stripping off the coat. He's…hahaha, I caught it. I caught your coat, Kurtsie. Those arms, fuck. And that ass, I can't even…fuck, ok, I need to get my dick down before this performance is over…FUCK, he's trailing his hands down to his crotch…ok, Carson, just…um…just concentrate on Rachel for a second. I see she went with "NOSE" for her shirt. Personally, I would have gone with "FUCKING ANNOYING," but that's just my opinion. I kind of wish Finn had broken her whole face…ok, I think I'm good now._

The song ended and Carson stood up to clap enthusiastically, waving at Kurt, who waved back with a big grin. Carson heard a sigh behind him and turned around, noticing for the first time that Santana was sitting there instead of dancing with the rest of the club. Next to her, watching the stage with an odd expression on his face, was Karofsky. Carson bristled. What the fuck was Karofsky doing there?

_I don't know what you're up to, asshole_, thought Carson, _but you'd better fucking leave Kurt alone. I'm still not sure why the fuck Santana is pretending to be your girlfriend, but you and I both know you're gay, and if you're planning to try something with Kurt, you will fucking regret it._

"Carson!" exclaimed Kurt running offstage and into the audience toward him. "What did you think? God, it felt _so good_ to be back performing with them again. You should have joined us, honey," he added, trailing his hand across Carson's chest where there was nothing written on his shirt. "And you should have made a shirt."

"Yeah," said Carson, "well, you know, I tried to find a flaw, but it just couldn't be done."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at him and took his arm, leading him out of the auditorium by the arm. "Where are we going?" asked Carson, not really caring. Wherever Kurt wanted to take him was fine. And at least they were away from Karofsky now.

"The choir room," Kurt answered, taking his coat out of Carson's hand and slipping it back on. "I need to get my bag, and also I have a present for you."

"Really?" asked Carson, intrigued.

"Yep." They reached the choir room door and Kurt led them inside. He walked over to the clothesline, which had yet to be taken down, and Carson saw that there was one shirt still hanging on it. Kurt carefully unhooked it and brought it over to Carson, turning it around so that he could see the front. It was a shirt just like everyone else had made, only this one said "WORRIES TOO MUCH."

"I made you one," said Kurt, "because it's true. You _do_ worry too much."

Carson smiled. "That's not a flaw, though, Kurtsie. I have to worry about you because you don't worry enough about yourself. Kissing sex crazed hobbits and shit all the time."

Kurt nodded. "You want to know a secret?"

Carson raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"I like that you worry," replied Kurt. "I like it, because it means that you love me and that you care about me," he said, carefully folding the shirt and handing it to Carson. "And so, you're right. It's not a flaw at all."

Carson took the shirt from him and smiled, locking his eyes on Kurt's. "Then I'll worry about you forever."

Kurt smiled back. "Good."

* * *

"Blaine, come on," Kurt encouraged his boyfriend, who had been following him all the way up the stairs, but had since stopped in the doorway of Kurt and Carson's room looking uncertain. "You can come in, you know."

"Are you sure?" asked Blaine. "Your brother isn't going to, like, pop out of nowhere and shoot me with a stun gun or something, is he?"

Kurt sighed. "Blaine, you're just here to help me gather up some old clothes to give to Sam. I really don't think he'll mind…much. It's not like we'll be doing anything but just looking through the closet." Kurt knew this wasn't true at all. Carson would definitely _not_ like it if he knew Blaine was in their room, no matter the reason, but Carson wasn't home. And besides, Kurt would probably be done picking out clothes and have Blaine back downstairs by the time he got home, anyway.

"Blaine, seriously, it's fine," he said, grabbing the other boy's hands and dragging him into the room. "Come on, let's find some clothes for Sam, ok?" Blaine nodded and followed Kurt over to the closet.

"Ok, so," said Kurt, focusing on the far left side of the closet, where he kept all his out-of-season things. "When I hand you an article of clothing, I want you to lay it out on the bed, but do it in organized piles. So, all the jackets go together, all the shirts, and all the pants. Ok?"

"Ok," agreed Blaine. Kurt smiled and began taking things off their hangers, handing them one at a time to Blaine, who did what he was told and made three neat piles.

"Can I ask you something?" asked Blaine after several minutes of working in silence.

"Hmm?" replied Kurt distractedly as he debated whether or not Sam would want his hemp jacket he'd worn on Earth Day last year.

"How come you and your brother don't have your own beds?" asked Blaine. "I mean, don't you ever want your own space, even if you have to share a room?"

"We don't _have_ to share a room," replied Kurt. "We share because we sleep better together than alone. It's the same thing with the bed. Besides, there isn't enough room in here for two beds plus everything else."

"Oh," said Blaine. "This is really nice of you," he said after several more minutes, folding a shirt and placing it on top of the pile of other shirts. "You know, giving your old clothes to your friend."

"It's not much," said Kurt. "I just want to help out however I can." He moved his old Cheerio uniform over to the side to see if he had anything behind it he could add to the piles.

"What's that?" asked Blaine, sounding interested. Kurt followed his gaze over to the uniform he had just moved.

"Oh…that. I was a cheerleader for a while last year," he answered. "I don't know why I kept the uniform."

"Does, um…does it still fit?" asked Blaine casually, walking up behind him. Kurt smiled.

"Probably," he said. "Do you have any particular reason for asking?"

"Maybe," Blaine replied, placing his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "I may have been wondering what you looked like in it." He leaned his head down and kissed Kurt's neck, causing Kurt to panic just a little. If his dad came home, or worse, Carson, Blaine was _so_ dead.

"Blaine," he said, trying to shrug off the other boy's lips from his neck. "Blaine, stop. We can't do this here. Carson-"

"Isn't home," Blaine finished for him, gently turning him around and cupping Kurt's face in his hands. "Surely we can spare five minutes to make out a little," he said, pressing his lips to Kurt's.

"Mmph," Kurt murmured. "But…" He managed to free his lips from Blaine's long enough to say "But the door…"

Blaine sighed and stopped kissing him. He crossed over to the door and went to shut it, but stopped cold when he saw what was behind it.

_Oh my GOD, Carson, I thought you had gotten rid of that damn dartboard_, thought Kurt, flushing with embarrassment. There were even more holes in it now than when Kurt had first discovered it.

"Um, Kurt?" asked Blaine. "What, um….what's that?"

"That?" said Kurt, trying to figure out some way to explain it that didn't make Carson out to be some kind of psycho. "Um…well…"

"That," came a voice from behind the half-shut door, "is what I use to pass the time when you're off hogging my brother and I have nothing else to do. You should try it. Throwing darts at your face is _so_ relaxing." Kurt groaned inwardly._Crap_.

Carson swung the door back open all the way and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his bag still slung over one shoulder. "Why, hello Bennigan," he said to Blaine, plastering a fake smile on his face that more closely resembled a disgusted grimace than an actual smile. "How _lovely_ to see you. Again. In the bedroom. Alone. With my sweet baby brother, whom I love more than life itself, and the very same sweet boy you were just trying to assault with your mouth. No means no, Brody."

Kurt felt his face heat up and he looked down at his shoes, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling he always got in his stomach when Carson got possessive like that. Blaine looked terrified for his life as he started stammering out an explanation.

"I, uh…we….you know, maybe I should head back to Dalton," he finally got out. Carson grinned bigger and nodded.

"That would be best," he replied. "Shall I show you to the door?"

"No," said Blaine. "I, um…I know where it is." He turned to Kurt and gave him a little wave. "See you later, Kurt."

"Bye," replied Kurt, waving back as Blaine made his way down the stairs. Carson rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

"Before you say anything, he was just helping me gather up those clothes," Kurt said, pointing to the bed.

"Right, that was why I heard him not giving a fuck that you were trying to say no to a makeout session," said Carson, sinking onto the sofa. "You realize he's lucky that I've had an extremely exhausting week and don't have the energy to kill him, right?"

"Aaaw," said Kurt, crossing over and settling on Carson's lap, his arms wrapped around his neck as he gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Poor Carsey. Is it the_Muckraker_ again?"

Carson sighed. "Yeah," he said, hugging Kurt around the waist and resting his head on his chest. "It's turned into such a fucking tabloid ever since Coach Sylvester took it over. That paper was as good as _mine_. And now she's making me run all these completely bullshit gossip stories that hurt my soul, and it's no better than the _Enquirer_, or any of those other trashy magazines that idiots read."

"Poor baby," said Kurt, using one hand to comb through Carson's hair. "I'm sorry." He didn't, of course, add that at least one good thing about so many gossip pieces being published in the paper was that he was now pretty certain Santana _wasn't_ interested in Carson at all. But he was thinking it.

"That paper may not have been perfect before, and I may have had to write most of it myself, but at least it had integrity," Carson whined. "What is it now? Sue put Brittany in charge of conducting interviews for it, for fuck's sake. _Brittany_. I'm not sure she even knows what a newspaper is!"

"Don't worry, Carsey," said Kurt. "This is just one of Ms. Sylvester's whacky schemes. She'll get bored in a week or so, and you'll have your paper back."

"You think?" Carson asked, looking at him with wounded eyes that made Kurt just want to hug him forever until he smiled.

"I'm sure of it," he replied. "Next week she'll have moved on to something else. You'll see."

Carson smiled then and Kurt grinned and tapped him lightly on the nose. "There's that smiling face I love to see," said Kurt. Carson kissed the top of his chest through his clothes and hugged him tighter.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Any time, baby," replied Kurt. Carson turned his attention to the piles of clothes on the bed.

"Are those for Sam?" he asked. Kurt nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I thought maybe we could go over to the motel and give them to him tonight. You bagged up all the stuff you said you'd give him, right?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah. It's not much, just some jeans and T-shirts, but he'll probably want the option to wear them since your clothes tend to have a lot of…um…embellishments."

Kurt laughed. "Hey, I refrained from adding anything to the pile that had rhinestones on it."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love your embellishments," said Carson. "I really do."

"I know," said Kurt. "So come on, help me bag all this stuff up."

* * *

Carson decided that Kurt was absolutely right. This whole kick that Coach Sylvester was on about publishing gossip in the _Muckraker_ would blow over in no time. After all, all her other stupid schemes had. This would be no different, and then he could have his paper back. It wasn't much, and it wasn't a particularly good paper, but damn it, it was _his_ paper. He took to skipping glee meetings in order to keep an eye on just what the fuck was going on in that journalism classroom. There were a lot of things he was willing to put up with as a result of the newly formed McKinley rumor mill if it meant he wouldn't have to do it for long.

However, what he _wasn't_ willing to put up with were people thinking things about Kurt that weren't true, especially something horrible, like that he had cheated on Blaine with Sam. He almost couldn't believe his ears when he came home one day and Kurt had told him about Rachel coming up to him by his locker and admonishing him for the perceived crime.

"Bitch said _what_?" Carson had asked incredulously. "I'll kill her. Is she fucking high? Why would she think you were cheating on Balto, anyway?"

"She saw me, and…well…you…coming out of the motel room the other night, and Sam was wearing my recycled hemp jacket today," said Kurt. "Did, um…did I mention that everyone also thinks that you were involved in this illicit rendezvous? As in, a participant?"

"_WHAT_?" Carson exclaimed. He tried to ignore the nagging thought in the back of his mind that he wouldn't actually mind doing all kinds of things with Kurt in a motel room, just without Sam. "What the fuck goes on in that choir room when I skip glee meetings? How do things like this even come up?"

"Who knows?" said Kurt. "I'm pretty sure they think Quinn is involved, too. Like there's one huge orgy going on over at that motel. All I know is that when I got to glee yesterday, everybody got really quiet all of a sudden, and then Santana asked me if you were gay."

Carson lost his train of thought. "What did you say?"

"I said it was none of her business," Kurt replied. "Because it's not. They were all just probably trying to decide if you were there for Sam or Quinn."

"Ugh," groaned Carson. "As if my life wasn't fucked enough. Can't we just tell them they're idiots?"

"We're not telling them anything," said Kurt determinedly. "It's none of their business, and besides, Sam doesn't want anyone to know about his family situation, and we promised him we wouldn't tell."

"But people think you're a cheater," Carson protested. "I can't let them think those things about you."

Kurt gave him a small smile and patted him on the arm. "Hey, everyone who counts knows the truth, ok? That's all that matters. Let them think what they want. I'm not going to break a promise to a friend just because of some stupid gossip."

"You're right," Carson sighed. "I guess I owe Sam that much. He did take a punch in the face from Karofsky for you that one time."

"Of course I'm right," said Kurt.

Carson decided not to skip glee the next day, even though he was dying to know how Coach Sylvester was ruining his paper this time. Maybe he couldn't say anything, but he could sure as fuck stare daggers at anyone who even dared to insinuate that Kurt would ever even think of doing something as horrible as cheating.

He almost regretted this decision when he was first treated to the suspicious glares of half the club, who were looking back and forth between him and Kurt and then over at Sam.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Carson snapped at Santana, who was looking at him the most suspiciously out of everyone. Surprisingly, she didn't give him a bitchy retort, just shrugged and turned away from him.

Then he was forced to sit through a Rachel Berry rendition of Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your Own Way," a song he hated with a fiery passion and which he now hated even more. _I picked the wrong day to come to glee, clearly. Does anything ever go on in this glee club that doesn't revolve around Rachel and Finn's relationship drama? Fuck, there's like two thousand more students at this school. Both of you find someone else to date and spare the rest of us your bullshit. I beg of you._

"Don't you think it's maybe a little inappropriate that you chose to sing a love song to my guy?" asked Quinn icily from her seat after Rachel finished singing._Oh boy, more relationship drama. Just what I'm always in the mood for. Wait, no._

"You're such a hypocrite, Little Miss Perfect Prom Queen," snapped Rachel. "You're a cheater who cheats in cheap motels with Sam!"

_Oh, she wouldn't…if she so much as dares…_

"Nothing is going on between Sam and I!" exclaimed Quinn, exasperated.

"Enough, guys," interjected Mr. Schue, sounding as though he didn't really give a fuck whether the fighting stopped or not.

"You know, I blame Sam for all this," said Santana calmly. "And Rachel, too. I blame her."

"What did I do?" protested Rachel.

"I'm sure you did something," said Santana.

"See, I'm with Santana," spoke up a girl Carson wasn't familiar with, since she'd joined the club after he'd left it when Kurt transferred. He was pretty sure her name was Laura, or Laurel, or something. "Why doesn't Sam have anything to say about this?"

"Seriously, dude, what you're doing is not cool," said Puck to Sam. "Two of them have boyfriends, and I don't know about Kurt's brother, but still. Not cool."

Oh, FUCK no. Carson was _not_ going to let Puckerman stand there and encourage the mentality that Kurt was a cheater. Enough was fucking enough. He opened his mouth, trying to think of a way to tell Puck to fuck off without revealing Sam's secret, when Sam himself spoke up.

"Shut up!" Sam exclaimed. "I'm not messing around with Quinn or Kurt, or Carson, or anyone. They're just helping me."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" asked Mercedes snottily.

"Shut the fuck up, Mercedes. You don't know shit," Carson snapped at her.

"Hold on," said Mr. Schue. "How are they helping you out?" he asked Sam.

"Kurt and Carson were bringing me some clothes, and Quinn was helping me babysit my brother and sister," said Sam quietly.

"Then why were you in that motel?" asked Finn accusingly. _I swear to god, Finn, just SHUT UP._

"Because that's where I live now!" Sam blurted out. "My dad lost his job a few months ago, and then we lost our house, so now we all live in the motel in one room. Are you all happy? The truth's finally out." He got up and stormed out of the choir room. Carson and Kurt exchanged a look, and Carson knew that Kurt was thinking they should go after him. They got up to do so, but before Carson left the room he turned back around to face everyone. He had a few things to say to the club.

"And I can't believe you all would actually think Kurt would cheat on his hobbit boyfriend. I mean, I don't like the guy, but Kurt would NEVER do that to him and hurt him," he said, his hands resting angrily on his hips. "He's not an asshole, unlike the rest of you." He turned and stalked out of the room to join Kurt, who had waited for him just outside the door.

"I hate the glee club," Carson muttered, taking Kurt's hand and trying to figure out where Sam might have gone. "I really do."

* * *

"So, you think it's cool if I jam with you guys at prom?" Blaine asked as Finn took a seat on the living room couch between him and Carson. They were waiting for Kurt to come downstairs to model the prom outfit he'd been working on in secret for the past week. Not even Carson had been allowed to see the work in progress, and in fact he had been kicked out of their bedroom on more than one occasion so that Kurt could have privacy to work. Carson didn't mind, of course. He knew how Kurt got when he had a new fashion project to obsess over, especially now because it would be his first prom and he was excited. It was really adorable.

What Carson _did_ mind was Blaine being over at the house again, as had become something of a habit lately. Carson didn't understand why he couldn't simply stay the hell at Dalton on weekdays. Honestly, didn't he have anything better to do than to drive three hours every day just to be an annoyance? Carson understood Kurt was irresistible, but still.

"Yeah, totally," Finn answered.

"I thought you didn't even want to go to prom," Carson said, peeking around Finn to stare at Blaine. "Didn't Kurt have to practically beg you to go?"

"Well, yeah…I was hesitant, I guess, but-"

"But performing there isn't an issue?" Carson pressed. Blaine gave him a hard look.

"Good news, boys!" said Burt, walking into the house just as Blaine was about to say something. "My buddy Enzo from the tux rental shop is giving you half off."

"Sweet," said Finn.

"Yeah, Dad, that's awesome," said Carson. He'd have to remember to go there later in the week. He was fully intending on dancing with Kurt at that prom, and he wanted to at least look nice when he did it. Kurt deserved to dance with someone who looked nice.

"So, what are you gonna go with?" asked Burt.

"I'm going simple," said Blaine, directing his words to Finn, as if Finn cared. "Black, thin-lapel collar, very discreet."

"Good for you," Carson muttered.

"You know what I wore to my prom? I wore a powder blue tux with a ruffled shirt and big velour bow tie," said Burt, smiling at the memory. "Looked like Tony Orlando."

"Was that a designer?" asked Blaine, looking confused. Carson rolled his eyes._Kurt, baby, I love you, but your taste in guys leaves a LOT to be desired_.

"No," said Burt, sitting down in his chair with the newspaper.

"No need for half off _my_ outfit," came Kurt's cheerful voice from the stairs as he practically bounced down them and struck a pose in front of his audience of four. Carson grinned. It was definitely a Kurt prom outfit, complete with a plaid kilt, and Carson thought it looked terrific on him. Then again, he was probably just a little bit biased.

"Because half of it is already off?" asked Burt with a chuckle. Carson frowned.

"My ensemble is an homage to the recent royal wedding," Kurt answered ignoring the slight. "And the late Alexander McQueen. I had to make it myself. There's simply nothing off the rack that is suitable for the young, fashionable man in Ohio."

"I love it, Kurt," said Carson. "It's one of a kind, just like you."

"Yeah, dude, that rocks!" said Finn. "It's like gay _Braveheart_."

"Thank you guys," said Kurt with a proud smile, twirling around so that the kilt fanned out.

"I don't like it," said Burt. _Dad, what the hell?_ thought Carson, irritated.

"Well, of course you don't like it," said Kurt. "It's not finished yet. I think it still needs, like, a sash. Or maybe some beads."

"I think it's perfect now, but yeah, anything you add could only make it more awesome," said Carson, praying that his dad wouldn't say anything else.

"I'm not gonna stop you from wearing it," said Burt, putting down his paper, "but I've got to be honest, I think you're just trying to stir the pot a little bit. I think you're trying to get some attention."

"Exactly!" Kurt said, and Carson could tell from his tone that he was trying not to lose it. "What's the point of dressing up? I mean, that's why some guys wear the tails with the top hat, and the girls wear the hoopskirts. Blaine, help me out here!" he said, throwing a pleading look at his boyfriend.

_Yeah, Bernard, help him out here_, Carson thought threateningly. _You of all people should be supporting him, so fucking support him._

"I think your dad has a point," said Blaine. _Oh my GOD I will fucking murder you, Bonham._

"I think what he's trying to say," Blaine continued, "is that we just don't want to give anyone a reason to cause any trouble."

"There's a lot of bad people out there, Kurt, and they're a lot worse than this Karofsky kid," added Burt. "And all they're looking for is a match to light under the fire of their hate. Now, of course, I want…I want you to be yourself, but I also want you to be practical."

"Ok, everybody stop talking and listen!" Carson said standing up and going over to put an arm around Kurt. "There's nothing wrong with his outfit. It's no different than any of the other outfits he always wears to school. In fact, he's worn skirts to school before. Being afraid of what other people will do or say is no reason for him to not wear what he wants, and do you really think I would let anyone say or do anything to him?"

Nobody said anything. Kurt sighed and reached his hand up to hold the one Carson had slung over his shoulder. "Ok, I have done everything right. Now, Blaine," he said, turning to his boyfriend, "I understand that, after what you've been through you're worried. But prom is about joy, not about fear, ok? So, I'm wearing this suit. I worked hard on it, and I think it's fantastic. And if you don't want to join me, I completely understand."

Carson nodded in agreement, throwing a glare Blaine's way for good measure. Kurt gently extracted himself from Carson's grasp and patted him on the arm before heading back up the stairs, a stony expression on his face. Carson watched him go and then turned to everyone else.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his irritation evident in his voice, not that he gave a shit. "Dad, you're his _father_. You should at least have said something encouraging. And you," he said, turning to Blaine with a scowl. "You, despite my intense disapproval, are his boyfriend. Out of everyone else here, I think he was probably looking for your approval the most, because you made it more than clear to him that you didn't even want to go to prom in the first place. So congratulations on crushing his self-esteem. _Again_. Just like you've done countless times before. Really. Way to go."

He scoffed and headed up the stairs after Kurt, not even bothering to wait for his dad or Blaine to react to his words. He didn't care what they had to say at the moment. Kurt was all that mattered.

"Kurt?" he said softly, entering their bedroom to find Kurt standing in front of his full length mirror, holding up various pieces of fabric to his kilt. Carson assumed he was looking for something to make a sash with.

"I don't care what they say," Kurt said. "I'm wearing this to prom."

"Good," said Carson, coming up behind him and putting one hand on Kurt's shoulder, catching his eye in the mirror. "I'm glad. It looks really great on you."

"Ok, I feel like I ask you this every time we stand in front of a mirror together, but are you sure you're not just saying this because you feel like you have to?" asked Kurt. Carson laughed.

"No. No, I really do like the outfit," he said. "I love it. It's very you."

"And you don't think the kilt is too much?" asked Kurt. "I mean, I'm wearing it anyway, but you would tell me if you thought-"

"Kurt," Carson interrupted. "You will be the best dressed guy there, I promise. And I'm really looking forward to dancing with you. I'll be wearing a boring tux, and you will be wearing that masterpiece you've got on, and we'll make everyone jealous of how hot we look together."

Kurt smiled in the mirror. "We will look pretty hot, won't we?"

"Yeah," said Carson. "Yeah, we will."

Kurt sighed. "I just really wanted Blaine to like it."

"He'll come around," said Carson, trying to be as comforting as possible. He sensed now wasn't the time for a tirade about how much Blaine sucked. "He just doesn't understand how lucky he is."

_And he probably never will, because he's an ungrateful moron who doesn't realize he's the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole world._

* * *

Carson spent most of the afternoon of the Saturday of prom watching Kurt go through an elaborate routine to get ready for the dance. It was fascinating. His skin care regiment alone took nearly three hours as he applied nearly every cream he owned to his face, let it sit, and then patiently washed it off. Carson's favorite part was the fact that his twin wore a tight white T-shirt that he usually reserved for sleeping in while he was doing this, so Carson got to subtly admire Kurt's arms and back. Not to mention that chest. He really hoped he was convincing at pretending to be absorbed in an article he was writing for the_Muckraker_ (now that Ms. Sylvester had, in fact, gotten bored with running it, the paper was back in his control).

"You should get dressed," Kurt said to him as he finished the last of his skin care routine. "I really want to do something with your hair, but you need to be dressed first."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Carson asked. "It's not like anyone is going to notice it."

"I'll notice it," replied Kurt. "And don't you want it to look nice for pictures?"

"What pictures?" murmured Carson, but he went and put on his rented tux anyway. When he was done, he found that Kurt had already changed into his outfit and was working on his own hair at his vanity mirror, happily humming a tune as he worked.

"Oh, good, you're ready," he chirped, patting the spot next to him on his bench. "Come, sit."

Carson did as he was told, taking the seat Kurt indicated and watching as Kurt applied various products to his hair to make it shiny and nice. "You're not going to use that stuff on me, are you?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, honey…of course I am," said Kurt, taking a spray bottle full of something Carson couldn't identify and aiming it at his head. "Close your eyes," he said, waiting for Carson to obey before spritzing his hair with it. Carson kept his eyes closed as Kurt's fingers worked through his hair. It felt really good, just like it did when they cuddled together and Kurt stroked his hair.

"Ok, I'm done," announced Kurt. Carson opened his eyes and looked in the mirror.

"That was it?" he asked. His hair didn't really look much different than it had before, except now it was shinier and maybe arranged a little neater.

"Yep. See? You should learn to trust me," said Kurt, starting to put his things away.

"Kurt? Blaine's here!" came their father's voice from downstairs.

"Ok, I'll be down in a minute!" Kurt called. He grinned at Carson and squealed. "He's here! How do I look?" he asked, turning to check himself in the mirror one more time.

"You…you look beautiful," said Carson, trying to ignore the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat at the sight of his beautiful, perfect Kurt getting ready to attend his first prom with another guy. Carson felt a sharp pang of sadness, but he brushed it aside. After all, he might not be Kurt's date, but he would still be close by all evening. He would still get to dance with him and have a good time with him.

_But I wish things were different. I wish we could go as each other's dates, and that nobody would judge us or look at us funny. I wish I could slow dance with him and say "I love you" and know that he knows that I mean it in more than just a brotherly way. That I mean it in all ways._

"Come on," said Kurt, cutting into Carson's thoughts as he took his hand. "Let's go!"

They came down the stairs side by side, and Carson did his best to suppress the intense wave of jealousy he felt as he watched Blaine smile that big, toothy smile of his at Kurt. He didn't want to ruin Kurt's prom night by being negative about his boyfriend. He'd save it for another day, although it was extremely difficult when he noticed Blaine's face contorting into an almost-frown when he saw that Kurt had not changed his mind about his outfit.

"You look great," Blaine said, not really sounding like he meant it, and holding out a single pink flower on a pin, which Kurt took with a smile and attached to his own lapel.

"Yes, he does, doesn't he?" Carson said pointedly. "He looks beautiful, and his outfit is great."

_What a gentleman, offering to put the flower on for you and complimenting your outfit,_Carson thought sarcastically. _Really, WHAT a knight in shining armor._

"Ooooh, you boys all look so handsome," squealed Carole, who was apparently getting out all her prom night mom feelings by doting on Kurt, since Finn had hightailed it out of the house early to go pick up Quinn. "Kurt, Blaine, why don't you stand in front of the mantle, ok? I want to take a picture."

"Thank you," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand and leading him over to the mantle, where they struck a formal looking pose as Carole snapped photo after photo.

_I think I'm going to be sick_.

"Ok, hon, I think a hundred photos is plenty," said Burt with a laugh. "You're gonna exhaust the poor boys before they even get to the dance."

"Carson?" Carole asked. "Go stand next to Kurt, honey. You two look so sweet, I simply need a picture of you together."

Carson wasn't sure whether he wanted to smile or throw up as he crossed over to take Blaine's place beside Kurt in front of the mantle. He loved the idea of having a prom photo with Kurt, but he knew that seeing the developed photo would probably depress him even more.

He put his arm around Kurt, who wrapped one arm around Carson's waist in turn, and the two of them flashed Carole big smiles as she snapped the picture, although Carson knew his didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Let's take one more," she said. "Pose however you want this time, ok?"

"Ok," said Kurt. "Carsey, here, stand behind me…ok, now wrap your arms around my chest…"

Carson did as he was told, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder as Kurt reached his hands up to hold onto Carson's arms.

"Ready," Kurt said to Carole, who snapped the picture and sighed.

"Oh, my boys," Carole sighed. "You're all just so adorable. Ok, now have fun, be careful…"

"And no drinking, and no shenanigans," added Burt. "That goes for all three of you."

"_Dad_," said Kurt.

"I'll keep an eye on him, Dad," said Carson. "Fear not."

"Right. Well, you boys have fun," said Burt with a smile.

"We will, Dad," said Kurt, practically dragging Blaine out the door before their dad could say anything else.

_Not too much fun, Kurtsie. Not too much fun._

* * *

Prom itself was pretty lame, in Carson's opinion. He had no idea why people went so nuts over it. At least he ended up dancing with Kurt for a fair number of songs, since Blaine didn't seem to be all that interested in dancing with him. Normally, Carson would have made a snide comment about that, but he remembered his silent vow not to be negative and ruin Kurt's night, so he said nothing about how Blaine was the worst boyfriend ever. He just enjoyed the opportunity to dance with Kurt, and even managed to pretend that he was actually Kurt's date and that Blaine wasn't even there, until Blaine got up on stage to sing and his presence couldn't be ignored.

_Seriously? He doesn't want to dance with Kurt because he's afraid of bullies, but he's more than happy to go up there and sing a song that includes the lyric "Ever since I was a little girl?" Ugh, whatever. If he doesn't want to dance with Kurtsie, that's his loss. His loss and my gain._

"Attention students," said Figgins, who had taken the stage at some point. "Will the candidates for king and queen gather on the stage? The votes are in."

_Ugh, this is going to be boring. I'll be sort of amused if Finn and Quinn win, though, since Finn got thrown out. Quinn's gonna be so pissed. It'll be great._ Carson himself hadn't voted for anyone. He didn't think anyone deserved his vote, and prom royalty was such a stupid concept, anyway.

Figgins waited for everyone to assemble behind him on the stage before continuing. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for, when we announce our junior prom king and also prom queen" he said, sounding bored. "Roll the drum, please."

_What is it with this school and fucking drumrolls, I swear._

"And this year's junior prom king is….David Karofsky!" Figgins announced.

_Really? Who the fuck voted for him? He's an asshole, I don't care how many times he apologized to Kurt._ He looked over at Kurt, who looked just as shocked as Carson was. _Guess he didn't think Karofsky would get a whole lot of votes, either_.

"Yeah!" Karofsky exclaimed as he jammed his king's crown on his head amidst the applause (none of which was coming from Carson, thank you very much).

"And now, your 2011 McKinley High prom queen, with an overwhelming number of write-in votes, is…" Figgins' face fell and he hesitated, as though he wasn't sure whether to read the results or not.

"…Kurt Hummel," he finished. Absolute silence reigned in the gym. Carson felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

_What the fuck just happened?_ he thought frantically. _I don't understand, why…oh fuck everyone at this fucking school. FUCK THEM. Fucking bastards_. He glanced over at Kurt, who was frozen on the spot, his eyes wide and disbelieving, which quickly turned into the look he always got when he was about to cry as one lone person started clapping. Carson didn't know who it was, but he wanted to murder them. And everyone who had done this to Kurt.

"Kurtsie," he whispered, reaching for Kurt's hand, but Kurt pulled away and looked around the gym, his eyes welling up as he started walking as fast as he could toward the exit doors.

Carson wanted to scream at everyone who was just standing there staring, but he said nothing. He just ran after Kurt, pushing past people on his way and probably knocking down several, but he didn't give a shit. They'd done this to his brother, they deserved what they got.

"Kurt? Stop! Kurt!" he heard Blaine calling as he followed behind Carson. They both caught up with Kurt out in the hallway, where Kurt had started crying, one hand over his mouth as he continued running.

"I've never been so humiliated," he sobbed.

"Kurt, please stop! Come on," said Blaine.

"Kurtsie, please," Carson pleaded. Kurt finally stopped running and just stood there in the middle of the hallway, tears streaming down his face.

"Don't you get how stupid we were?" he asked Blaine through his sobs. "We thought that because no one was teasing us or beating us up, that no one cared, like some kind of progress had been made. But it's still the same."

"It's just a stupid joke," said Blaine.

"No, it's not," Kurt argued. "All that hate…they were just afraid to say it out loud, so they did it by secret ballot. I'm one big, anonymous practical joke."

"Kurt," said Carson, holding his arms out. Kurt fell into them, sobbing and holding on to him so tightly that Carson very nearly lost the ability to breathe.

"I know Kurtsie," he whispered soothingly, rubbing small circles into Kurt's back with his hand as Blaine looked on, looking bored and slightly uncomfortable. "Shhh, I know. It's ok. I've got you, ok? I've got you." He felt Kurt's fingers grasping handfuls of his tux jacket as he cried harder.

They stood there like that for a long time, until Kurt's sobs gradually diminished into hiccups and gasps. Blaine had slumped down to sit up against a row of lockers, looking bored out of his mind. Carson wanted to fucking kill him.

_Hey, asshole, your boyfriend has just been humiliated in front of the whole school and is sobbing over here. Not that I want you touching him, but for fuck's sake, at least pretend to care._

"I'm not going back in there," said Kurt, pulling away from Carson to wipe at his eyes with his hand as he started pacing the hall. "No way."

"Would you at least sit down?" asked Blaine. Carson shot him a glare. Kurt didn't answer him, much to Carson's amusement.

"Do you want to go?" Blaine tried again. "We don't have to go back in there."

"Wasn't this prom supposed to be about redemption?" asked Kurt. "About taking away that lump you had in your throat from running away? If we leave, all it's gonna do is give me a lump, too."

"So what do you want to do?" asked Blaine, not sounding like he cared very much one way or the other.

Kurt thought about it for a minute, and then a determined look crossed his face.

"I'm gonna go back in there and get coronated," he said. "I'm gonna show them that it doesn't matter if they're yelling at me, or whispering behind my back, that they can't touch me. That they can't touch _us_," he added, kneeling down to Blaine's level. "Or what we have."

Carson felt his own throat lump growing bigger as he listened to Kurt refer to himself and Blaine as "us."

Blaine handed Kurt a tissue and stood up, holding out his hand to help Kurt up.

_Fucking finally, you start acting like a gentleman,_ thought Carson bitterly. _A little too late, I might add._

"Are you ready for this?" asked Blaine.

Kurt took his hand and stood up, holding out his other hand for Carson to take. "Yeah, I'm ready," he said, sniffling one final time. "Let's do this."

The three of them walked back into the gym and Carson stood at the front of the crowd, watching as Kurt ascended the stairs to the stage and stood beside Figgins.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Figgins said, "Your 2011 prom queen, Kurt Hummel." He took the plastic gold crown and placed it neatly atop Kurt's head, handing him a scepter to go with it.

_Oh, Kurtsie_, thought Carson. _My poor baby. I swear I will kill everyone who did this to you._

Kurt stood in front of the microphone, looking unsure what to do. Carson tried his best to send positive vibes his way. He wasn't sure that would work, but it was worth a shot.

"Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton," Kurt said finally into the mic. Carson smiled. _There's my baby_.

The crowd started clapping and Figgins patted Kurt on the shoulder as he leaned into the microphone.

"And now, behold the tradition of our 2011 prom king and queen sharing their first dance," he said. Carson almost choked.

_WHAT? Oh fuck no. No, he's been humiliated enough without having to dance with fucking Karofsky. No fucking way._

He needn't have worried, since Karofsky abandoned Kurt on the dance floor anyway, leaving him looking even more awkward and embarrassed than he already was. Carson was about to step forward and dance with him himself when he saw that Blaine had beaten him to it.

"Excuse me," Blaine said, holding out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

Kurt looked relieved and smiled, which made sharp pangs of jealousy and sadness start battling each other inside Carson's stomach. "Yes, you may," Kurt replied, taking Blaine's hand as the opening notes of "Dancing Queen" filled the gym and Carson had to stand there and watch the person he loved dance with someone else.

It was a very long rest of the night, especially when Kurt came up to Carson to inform him that he and Blaine were heading out.

"Out where?" Carson asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. No matter how much he disapproved, he knew he couldn't prevent Kurt from going wherever he wanted with Blaine, and it scared the hell out of him.

"I don't know," answered Kurt. "Blaine wants to leave, so…"

_I fucking bet he does_. "Just…please be careful?" Carson pleaded. _Or just please don't go at all? I don't trust him_.

"I will," said Kurt, pulling him into a hug. "I love you."

"Love you too," answered Carson, hugging him back and willing his voice not to break. He went home himself not long after Kurt and Blaine had left, putting his pajamas on and settling himself on the living room couch, his eyes trained on the front door.

_Come home, Kurtsie. Please, come home now._

It felt like forever before the door opened and Kurt came in, thankfully Blaine-less. Carson automatically glanced toward his brother's neck, as had become his habit now every time Kurt returned home from a date, and instantly wished he hadn't. It was very obvious Blaine hadn't heeded Carson's warning about not leaving marks, that was for sure.

"Hi," he said, sitting up and watching Kurt carefully set his crown and scepter on the coffee table before he joined him on the couch, resting his head on Carson's chest.

"Hi," he answered, sounding tired.

Carson wanted to sarcastically ask if he'd had fun, but decided not to. He didn't have the energy tonight to be sarcastic.

"He didn't do anything I have to cut his dick off for, did he?" he settled for asking. Kurt laughed.

"No, Carsey. I'm still in one piece," he replied, taking Carson's hand and squeezing. "I promise."

"Good," said Carson, kissing the top of Kurt's head and squeezing his hand back. "Good."


	15. Chapter 15

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! Ok, before we start, a lot of readers have been asking us how long we plan to keep the story canon before veering off, and the answer is that we plan to stick to the Glee (and SBL) canon for awhile longer yet before we deviate from it. But rest assured, we WILL be deviating from it. And as usual, we love you all and we love seeing all the lovely reviews that you guys leave. Ok, let's read!**

"Look," Carson was saying as he and Kurt headed toward the choir room for their afternoon glee meeting, "I'm not saying that Geometry is a waste of time for everyone, but since I'm not planning to be a professional scientist or mathematician, why the fuck do _I _need to learn it? Seriously, what possible use does it serve for me?" They entered the room and took seats beside each other as Carson continued his rant. "Do you know how many other useful things I could be doing with the time I waste in that class? I could be helping homeless animals or whatever. Or at the very least I could be learning something that will actually benefit me in life after I graduate from this prison."

Kurt smiled and patted him sympathetically on the arm. "I know you hate it, Carson, but you do need it to graduate and get into Northwestern, after all. Plus, the year is almost over. You can hang on until then."

"No, I can't," Carson pouted, crossing his arms. "That class is torture."

"Hey, I offered to tutor you, Hummel, but you said no," spoke up Santana from behind them. Kurt bristled and resisted the urge to give her bitch face, as he was usually tempted to do any time she spoke to Carson. Sure, he was about eighty percent sure that there was something going on between her and Brittany, but that didn't mean she couldn't be trying to worm her way into something with Carson, too, no matter how disinterested he might be.

"Oh, please, how was he supposed to trust you?" asked Kurt, linking his arm with Carson's possessively and scooting his chair ever so slightly closer to him as he turned his head to look at her. "You probably would have demanded payment in blood or something."

Santana smiled devilishly. "Actually no, I would have demanded payment in seeing you two make out again," she said in a low voice that only the boys could hear.

Kurt blushed and looked straight ahead. He could see Carson's cheeks turning slightly pink out of the corner of his eye, as well.

"Hey, what's Jesse doing here?" asked Carson, leaning over to whisper in Kurt's ear. Kurt shrugged. He'd noticed the boy in the choir room as they entered, but had figured he was there to see Rachel or something.

"New Directions!" spoke up Mr. Schue, as if in answer to Carson's question."I would like to introduce you to our new show choir consultant, Jesse St. James."

The club just stared, except for Rachel, who started enthusiastically clapping until Mercedes stopped her.

"I don't trust this guy," said Finn. "How do we know he's not going to trick us into doing something stupid so his alma mater wins?"

Kurt knew his twin well enough to know that Carson's raised eyebrows after that question meant that he was shocked Finn even knew what an alma mater was. Frankly, so was Kurt.

"I don't think I need to do much tricking to get you to do something stupid, Finn," replied Jesse coolly. Carson snorted.

"Brilliant," he said under his breath.

"Guys, Jesse is just a consultant," said Mr. Schue. "I still make all the calls."

"Then we're still screwed," muttered Carson.

"Now, I have all the confidence in the world in you guys," Mr. Schue continued. "I just think we could use all the help we could get, because this is it." He indicated the whiteboard at the front of the room, on which was written the word _NATIONALS_. Seeing the word sent an excited shiver down Kurt's spine. He couldn't wait to set foot in New York.

"We've been working so hard for two years for this moment, and that moment is finally here," said Mr. Schue. "Now, I was talking with Jesse and he agreed we should continue with our successful trend of doing original songs for the competition. I was thinking of doing one group number and one duet."

_I would kill for a part in that duet_, thought Kurt. _Granted, last time I sang a duet in a competition, we lost, but this time would be different. It would._

"Rachel and I should sing a duet," said Finn. "We killed it last year at regionals with Faithfully."

_And we lost, Finn. Did you forget that part?_

"Yeah, it killed _us_. We lost," said Quinn. _Thank you, Quinn._

"I agree that Rachel should sing lead," said Jesse. _Ugh, of course you do. _"But Finn, I think it's best if you sit this one out. The fact is, most of the guys in here are better singers, and Mike Chang, who can't even sing, can at least dance. You kind of sing and dance like a zombie who has to poop."

The whole club erupted into giggles, especially Carson, who had the widest, most adorable grin on his face. He snorted and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder as his own shoulders convulsed with laughter.

"You see what I'm talking about? This guy's a jerk," complained Finn.

"Oh, shut up, Finn," said Carson, lifting his head and wiping away the tears from his eyes as he struggled to stop laughing. "Jesse is only telling the truth."

"Jesse, maybe you could be a little gentler with your advice?" suggested Mr. Schue.

"Gentle?" asked Jesse. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we were training for the "Good Try" ribbon at Nationals. I thought we were in it to win the whole damn thing, and there's only one way we can do that."

"Poison darts?" asked Brittany.

"The Vocal Adrenaline strategy is simple," continued Jesse. "Identify your best performer, and build the entire performance around them."

"So what does everyone else do?" asked Mercedes.

"And who's our star performer?" asked Puck.

"Obviously it's Kurt," said Carson. "I've only been trying to tell you people this for two years now." Kurt felt butterflies in his stomach and gave Carson's arm a gentle squeeze.

"We're gonna have auditions to find out," answered Mr. Schue, ignoring Carson. "I'm gonna post a sign-up sheet later this afternoon."

Finn said something then, probably more complaints, but Kurt didn't hear him. He was too busy mentally going through every song he knew trying to decide which one he would sing for his audition.

"I have to get this," he whispered to Carson. "I have to. I bombed at Regionals, I need this."

"You didn't bomb at Regionals," answered Carson. "Bruce did. The Warblers would have won if you'd sung by yourself. And there's no reason why you shouldn't blow everyone out of the water with your audition. Jesse is smart, even if he did date Rachel. He'll be able to see how talented you are."

Kurt smiled. "Thanks. Oh my god, I have to sign up as soon as the sheet is posted."

"I wouldn't count on getting a part at Nationals, Kurt," said Santana. "I'm auditioning too, and I will wipe the floor with you."

"Actually, no, Satan, it is I who will wipe the floor with _you," _replied Kurt sweetly.

"He'll kill it, Santana," said Carson. "Deal with it."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you were secret boyfriends," said Santana. "My apologies, Matt Laur. I didn't mean to insult your lover, but nevertheless, I will be murdering him at those auditions."

"Bring it, Satan," Kurt practically spat, tightening his grip on Carson's arm and doing his best to ignore her boyfriends comment. "May the best _man_ win."

"Oh, _she_ will," retorted Santana. The bell rang then, and everyone filed out of the choir room, Kurt keeping a tight grip on Carson's arm until Santana had disappeared down the hallway toward her next class.

"I'm going to win," Kurt declared, glaring down the hallway after her.

"Yeah, you will. I believe in you," said Carson, patting him gently on the shoulder before heading down the hall. "Santana doesn't stand a chance!" he added, turning around briefly. Kurt smiled and waved.

His next few classes went by agonizingly slowly, but finally his last class ended and he made his way quickly toward the bulletin board in the hallway, on which was posted the sign-up sheet Mr. Schue had promised. He noticed it at the same time as he noticed Santana on the opposite end of the hall, also staring at the sheet with a determined smile. They caught each other's eyes at the same time and shared a glare before they both started sprinting toward the bulletin board. They reached it at the same time and spent several seconds trying to elbow each other out of the way. Kurt managed to grab hold of the pen attached to the sign-up sheet's clipboard, only to have Santana yank it right out of his hand.

"Give it!" Kurt ordered, trying to grab it back as Santana continually moved the pen out of his reach.

"No, fuck you," said Santana, slapping his hand away. "You'll wait your turn."

"What the fuck is going on here?" asked Carson, who was walking toward them, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as he took in the scene before him. Santana took advantage of the fact that Kurt was distracted by his arrival to hurriedly sign her name on the first line of the sheet.

"Carsoooooon," Kurt whined, putting on his best "Wounded Little Brother" pouty voice and pointing accusingly at Santana. "She hit me. Do something." Santana smirked. Carson frowned and crossed his arms, glaring at her.

"Is that true, Santana? Did you hit him?" asked Carson dangerously.

"Might have slapped him around a little," answered Santana with a shrug. "Ain't nobody getting in my way. I'm auditioning first, and I'm nailing it."

"Keep dreaming," Kurt said with a scoff as he took the pen and added his name below hers. "Nobody is even going to remember your audition when I'm through."

"Damn straight," agreed Carson. "And the next time you hit him will be the _last_ time, Santana, because I will fucking end you. Got it?" Kurt crossed his arms to match his twin and gave Santana a triumphant smile.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said, turning and stalking down the hallway.

"I'm kicking her ass at those auditions," said Kurt determinedly.

"Of course you are," said Carson. "Have you decided on a song yet?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. "Some People," from _Gypsy_. I think it shows off my range brilliantly. It should impress Jesse, I hope."

Carson smiled. "It will. He'd have to be a complete idiot not to like it."

* * *

Carson was almost as excited as Kurt the next afternoon as they entered the auditorium for the auditions. Finally, at last, Kurt had a real shot at getting a part for a competition completely on his own merits, and not just because some guy decided that songs about dead birds were hot. He was very confident that Kurt could knock this audition out of the park.

"Ok, one more time, does my outfit look ok?" asked Kurt anxiously, smoothing his hair in the small pocket mirror he carried around at all times. He had changed out of his regular school clothes into an outfit he had planned specifically for his performance, which included tight pants emblazoned with skulls. Those pants were Carson's favorite part. They made his ass look fantastic.

"Yes," Carson reassured him. "Your outfit is great."

"Ok, good," said Kurt, sighing with relief and handing Carson his mirror to put in his bag for safekeeping. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," said Carson, giving him a quick hug. "Break a leg. But...you know...not literally."

Kurt snorted. "Thanks." He headed backstage to wait his turn, and Carson took a seat in the audience behind Jesse and Mr. Schue, who were quietly discussing something among themselves. Santana was already up on the stage, looking increasingly agitated as she waited for them to tell her to start.

"We're ready for the first contestant," Jesse said finally, and Santana pasted a smile on her face.

"My name is Santana Lopez, and I will be singing Amy Winehouse's "Back To Black," she announced. Carson scoffed. _Yeah, good luck, hon. Kurt's song is better than yours, and he's so nailing this._

Santana started her song, and Carson was pleased to see that only Mr. Schue seemed to be paying much attention to her. Jesse was scribbling something in his notebook, only occasionally glancing up at the stage. Carson craned his neck to try to see what he was writing, and discovered it was a drawing of a cat.

_Ha. Take that, Santana._

"Thanks so much for coming in," Jesse said dismissively when Santana had finished.

"Wait, that's all you have to say? You spent the entire performance scribbling notes!" she replied irritably. _No, he didn't. _

"Well, if you must know, I was simply writing down that I don't think your performance went very deep into the emotional truth of the song," replied Jesse calmly. Carson snorted.

"Oh, is that so?" said Santana, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Well, I happen to have some feedback for you..."

"Thanks, Santana, that's all we need," Mr. Schue cut her off, giving her a dismissive wave.

"I'm about to go all Lima Heights!" Santana declared, her arms crossed as she stalked off the stage. Carson rolled his eyes. _BYE. Now let's get to the one audition that really matters. _Kurt sauntered confidently onto the stage and turned to face the audience, one hand posed dramatically on his hip. He locked eyes with Carson, and Carson gave him a big smile and a thumbs up.

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel and I'll be singing "Some People" from _Gypsy_," announced Kurt.

"Ah, great selection, Kurt," said Mr. Schue. "Hit it!"

Kurt began to sing, and as usual, Carson was mesmerized, even though he had watched him spend the previous afternoon rehearsing. His voice was just perfect, not to mention that his ass looked very nice indeed wiggling around in those pants. Carson was kind of proud of himself for having the self control not to pop a boner this time, although it was a close thing, especially at the very end of Kurt's performance, where he flopped down backwards on the stage with his knees tucked under him.

"Woooo!" Carson shouted, standing up and clapping enthusiastically. "Good job, Kurt!"

"Good job, buddy," said Mr. Schue approvingly. Carson waited eagerly for Jesse's response. Surely he was going to praise that perfect performance, right?

"Kurt," Jesse began, fiddling with the pen in his hand as he spoke. "You do know that song was meant to be sung by a woman, right?"

_Oh, fuck, not this shit again. Jesse, I swear to fuck, if you do not give that performance rave reviews, Santana isn't the only one who will be going all Lima Heights on your ass._

"Yes, I'm aware," answered Kurt, his smile tightening as he spoke. "And the glee club sort of dealt with that whole "Boys singing songs that were meant for girls." It's kind of old news."

"Then you must know that that song was done to great fanfare by such Broadway legends as Merman, LuPone, Bernadette...those are some awfully big heels to fill, and I'm just not quite sure that you nailed it," said Jesse.

Kurt said nothing, just gave Jesse his very best bitch face and stalked off the stage. Carson heaved a huge sigh and got up from his seat.

"Are you _fucking _kidding me, Jesse?" he snapped on his way to go follow Kurt backstage. "That performance was _gold_."

"You're biased," said Jesse with a shrug. Carson glared at him and marched backstage where Kurt was sitting on a closed costume trunk next to Santana, his arms crossed and his face a storm cloud.

"I hate him," Kurt mumbled.

"I want him dead," said Santana.

"I mean, I hate to sound like Rachel, but I'm extremely talented, damn it," said Kurt. "I know when I do good work, and that song was _excellent_ work."

"It was," agreed Carson. "Jesse is just an idiot like everyone else at this school, I guess. I had hope, since he did throw eggs at Rachel, but I guess I was wrong."

"You guys know that Berry is auditioning too, right?" Santana said.

"What? Why?" asked Kurt.

"Why the fuck is she auditioning?" asked Carson. "Wasn't the whole point of this competition to see who would take the second part of a duet? A duet that Jesse already said was half hers? Why does she need to audition?"

"Who knows?" said Santana. "Apparently now we're auditioning for a solo, I don't know. I just have the extremely bad feeling that we're fucked, because Eggs Benedict Arnold is going to pick Rachel. Everything about this glee club is favoritism."

"As much as it kills me to agree with Satan, she's right," mumbled Kurt. "Jesse St. Sucks is going to pick Rachel, because he's still trying to get into her pants."

"Ew," said Carson and Santana at the same time. Kurt got up off the trunk and grabbed Carson's arm, leading him toward one of the dressing rooms. "Come on, Carson, I may as well change back into my school clothes, and you've got them in your bag." Carson gulped and allowed Kurt to lead him, flustering at the prospect of watching him change. He noticed Santana smirking after them, but chose to ignore her.

Once Kurt had changed his clothes (and Carson had snuck more than a few peeks at his bare chest in the process), they filed back into the auditorium and took seats in the audience, along with Santana, who was staring stony faced at the stage.

Mercedes was up next, and Carson had to admit she was good (although pretty common-sounding, and of course not as good as Kurt had been). Predictably, however, Jesse had nothing good to say. And then it was Rachel's turn.

_Ugh, of course she's singing a Streisand song_, thought Carson irritably. _She never sings anything else. And god, what the fuck is wrong with her face? Is she capable of singing anything without scrunching her face up like she's trying to take the hardest shit she's ever taken in her life? I don't understand. Nobody DOES that. _

After what seemed like six hours, Rachel finally stopped singing. Carson looked over to see Kurt teary-eyed, watching Rachel's performance with rapt attention.

"Kurt?" said Carson softly. "Oh honey, don't cry. I know her singing was painful, but..."

"She may be difficult, but boy, can she sing," Kurt murmured.

"….What?" asked Carson.

"Bravo!" Kurt exclaimed, jumping up in his seat and clapping enthusiastically. Carson gaped, refusing to believe that he was witnessing Kurt actually clapping for Trollberry. On Kurt's other side, Santana looked just as horrified. She caught Carson's eye and they exchanged a brief look before they each grabbed one of Kurt's arms and pulled him back down into his seat, although Carson thought Santana could have been a bit gentler.

"I have to be honest," said Jesse. "That was brilliant. I have nothing but the tip of my hat."

"Bullshit," mumbled Carson.

"Garbage. This whole thing is rigged," said Santana angrily.

"Hold on, guys," said Mr. Schue. "Like I said before, I make the final call here."

"Well, then make it," ordered Mercedes from her seat on Carson's other side.

Mr. Schue stood up slowly and sighed. "Out of respect to you all, I'm going to take a couple of days and consider all the results. I will let you all know by Friday," he promised, when all four teens rolled their eyes heavenward. "Great job, everyone."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Mr. Schue took the easy way out and decided that nobody was getting a solo (duet part? Carson didn't even fucking know anymore). Instead, they were supposed to write original songs for the whole club to sing. Granted, Carson had no clue how in the hell he expected them to be able to write two whole songs with Nationals only days away, but whatever. It wasn't like it was the stupidest thing the club had ever done, and besides, at least this way he didn't have to suppress a murderous rage at Rachel winning over Kurt, who clearly deserved it more. Suppressing murderous rages all the time couldn't be healthy for him. He was pretty sure he was developing an ulcer.

"Can you believe we're about to fly in a plane for the first time in our lives?" said Kurt excitedly as they boarded the plane to New York the following Friday morning. "And in first class, too! I'm so excited!"

Carson smiled. Kurt was adorable, practically bouncing on his feet as they entered their cabin and took seats. Kurt made a beeline over to a seat by a window and flopped down into it, sighing contentedly. "Come sit with me," he said, patting the seat next to him. Carson did, sinking down into the extremely comfortable seat and enjoying the cute little grin on Kurt's face as he glanced around the cabin. He had to admit, he was pretty excited, too. This would be a weekend where he could just be with Kurt and wouldn't have to worry about Blaine ruining it, since the biggest miracle in Carson's life right now was that at least Blaine attended a different school and wasn't coming with them to New York.

"We're going to New York, Carson. New York! The city of my dreams! What if we see a celebrity there? Oh, I wish we could see a show while we're there," Kurt lamented. "We probably won't have the time, though. And money, we don't have that, either. Shows are expensive. Do you think the hotel will have chocolates on the pillows?"

"Most likely," said Rachel, who had overheard him. "I Googled our hotel and it's rather nice, if I do say so."

"Whatever, I'm just so excited!" Kurt said again, letting out a little squeal. His excitement visibly diminished a bit once the plane started to take off. His face contorted into a grimace and he groaned, closing his eyes and putting his hands over his ears.

"Ugh, I was afraid of this," he complained. "Takeoff sickness. I feel nauseous. And my ears hurt."

Carson reached into his carry-on bag, rooting around for the mint gum he had stashed in there just for this purpose. "I prepared for that," he said sympathetically, finding the gum and handing Kurt a piece. "You get carsick, I figured you would probably get airsick, too. Chew the gum, it will help."

Kurt popped the gum in his mouth and took a shuddering breath. He curled sideways, resting his head on Carson's lap and keeping his eyes shut. Carson wrapped him in his arms and stroked his hair gently.

"It'll pass," he soothed. Kurt kept his eyes shut for several minutes, taking deep breaths, until the plane stabilized and they were running smoothly.

"Better now?" asked Carson as Kurt opened his eyes and lifted his head. Kurt nodded and gave Carson a watery smile.

"Yeah...still a little bit sick, but I think I'll be good now," he said.

The rest of the flight was relatively peaceful, except for the brief period in which Rachel decided to start singing all the New York themed songs she could think of. A glare from Carson and a positively demonic look from Santana after "New York State of Mind" shut her up quickly, thankfully, and soon enough they were landing in New York.

"This is it, Carson," Kurt said happily after they had exited the airport and were walking the streets of the city. "This is home. This is where I'm going to live after I graduate."

Carson smiled and slung one arm around his shoulder. "Yep, you will. And you'll have your name in lights on one of these marquees. Or all of them, more likely."

"And you'll live here, too, after you finish college," said Kurt dreamily, reciting the future plans the two of them had gone over so many times ever since they were little kids. "We'll both live here together and life will be perfect."

"Indeed, it will," agreed Carson, letting his thoughts wander to the not-quite-so-distant-anymore future where he could clearly see himself and Kurt living together in the very city they were walking in now, lighting it on fire, so to speak. With any luck, Blaine would just be an unpleasant memory from the past by then. _Maybe by then I'll have found the courage to tell Kurt that he means more to me than just being my brother. Maybe, if I'm extremely lucky, and if I'm good and don't piss off the fates too badly, maybe by some miracle we could be together. As in BE together._

He shook his head and mentally chastised himself for even allowing his thoughts to go there, because they hurt. There was no way he would ever be that lucky.

The club ended up stopping for lunch in Times Square before heading to their hotel. Kurt found a burger joint that caught his eye, and Carson carried him there piggyback style after Kurt threw his arms around his neck from behind and exclaimed "Carry me!" Who was Carson to resist that?

Now everybody was gathered on some steps in the middle of the square, eating their various lunches and still marveling that they were somewhere other than Lima.

"A year and a half ago, the New Directions were nothing but a group of six misfits stumbling their way through a horrific rendition of "Sit Down, You're Rocking The Boat," and now here we are, at the top of the show choir heap," Kurt was saying, waving his burger in the air excitedly. "Nationals!" he squealed.

"I wanna hit up Central Park and get my frolic on," said Tina.

"I want to throw stuff off the Brooklyn Bridge," added Puck.

"Guys, come on. I mean, we still have two songs to write," said Finn practically. Carson groaned inwardly. He hated any time he had to admit to himself that Finn was right. He still thought it was stupid that they hadn't written the songs weeks ago, since not only did they have to write them, they also had to rehearse them. Mr. Schue made no fucking sense.

"Ok, Mr. Bossy Pants," Kurt teased him. "But I think we have some time for a tune before we leave." He started singing "New York, New York" and everybody joined him, even Carson, who normally didn't join in any of the group singing if he could possibly help it. Kurt's excitement was contagious, though.

"Guys, I have news!" announced Rachel, running up to them and interrupting the song.

"You're staying behind when we go home?" asked Carson hopefully.

"No," said Rachel with a glare. "Actually, to celebrate our impending win at Nationals, I got us all thirteen tickets to Broadway's longest running show ever. _Cats_," she said proudly, holding up a fistful of tickets. Kurt snorted beside Carson and almost choked on his burger.

"You might want to check the dates on those tickets, Rachel, because _Cats_ closed about eleven years ago," said Quinn. Carson did a literal facepalm.

"Seriously?" he said, trying to choke back the tears of laughter that threatened to burst forth from his eyes at any moment. "Isn't Broadway, like, your whole life? How the fuck did you not know that _Cats_ wasn't even running anymore?"

Rachel looked embarrassed. "He did seem crazy," she said. "He charged my credit card by swiping it through his butt crack."

"Ugh," said Carson. "And you let him? Are you completely stupid?"

Rachel held her head high and ignored him. They all finished their lunches and headed toward the hotel, where Mr. Schue informed them he was planning to segregate them into two rooms by gender, except for Kurt, who was assigned the girl's room.

"Um, think again, Mr. Schue," said Carson. "There's no way I'm sleeping in the boy's room without Kurt. We bunk together."

"I bet you do," muttered Santana.

Mr. Schue sighed. "Whatever, I don't care."

"Top notch supervision there, Mr. Schue," said Santana. "I do agree, though. Romeo and Juliet should probably not be separated. The one in the hoodies probably turns into one of those creatures from _Gremlins_ after midnight if you take away his precious porcelain doll."

"Hey, Santana?" asked Carson sweetly.

"Yes?"

"Bite me," he said through gritted teeth. She just smiled. Everybody assembled in what was to serve as the girl's room so that Mr. Schue could give them instructions.

"Do you know that I can get an ahi tartare and a steak sandwich at 3:00 in the morning from their all night dining menu?" asked Kurt excitedly, squished onto Carson's lap and looking through the room service menu while they waited for Mr. Schue. "I feel like Eloise!"

"I have pills for that," said Brittany.

"Ok, guys," announced Mr. Schue. "This is your time. Now, you are all on lockdown until you finish writing our songs for Nationals. I want at least two solid verses by the time I get back."

"Back? Where are you _going_?" asked Carson.

"Aren't you going to help us?" asked Tina.

"I, um...I will be back and read your amazing creations and give notes," said Mr. Schue."But right now I have to head to the theater to, uh...fill out some paperwork."

"This is bullshit," said Carson. "You didn't even prepare us for Nationals at all, and now it's the day before the competition and you're just going to leave us alone to write two whole songs without even enough time to rehearse them when we're done? Are you _trying_ to make us lose? Wouldn't it have made more sense for us to write the songs days ago instead of wasting time on that pointless solo competition, so we could have rehearsed right now?"

Everyone just stared at him, open mouthed, except for Kurt, who softly muttered "Amen" under his breath, and Mr. Schue, who just cleared his throat and said "I'll be back" before leaving the room. Carson rolled his eyes."Why the fuck do I even bother?" he asked. Kurt rubbed his arm rest of the afternoon was wildly unproductive, as Carson had the feeling it would be. Between leaving the room to go explore the city and then Kurt and the girls (except Rachel) engaging in a pillowfight when they got back, absolutely nothing had gotten done by dinner time. Not that Carson really cared one way or the other. Clearly they were going to lose either way. He really only felt sorry for Kurt, who would be devastated losing his second competition in a row. Several more hours later, after room service had been ordered and all the food thoroughly picked through, practically all the girls had fallen asleep right where they were. Only Brittany was half awake, muttering something under her breath about her cat. Carson was perched on one side of a bed, and Kurt was slumped in his lap, yawning. It had been a long day for everyone.

"Tired, baby?" asked Carson quietly, lest he wake any of the girls (even though Rachel would probably end up doing that anyway once she got back from that ridiculous date with Finn that she thought no one had noticed she was dressing for earlier).

"Mmm, yeah," mumbled Kurt, sinking further into Carson's lap so that he was basically laying between his legs, facing away from him with his head on his chest. "Can barely keep my eyes open."

"Don't you want to do your face before you end up falling asleep?" asked Carson. "Or at least put on pajamas?" There was silence from his twin. "Kurt?"

He glanced down at Kurt's face, only to find his eyes closed and his breathing deep and even. Kurt was asleep. Carson smiled. _Poor baby must really be tired to both skip his face AND fall asleep fully dressed_. He heard Kurt's phone vibrate on the nightstand beside them and glanced over, rolling his eyes at the text message that had popped up on the lock screen.

_**Just wanted to say goodnight. -Blaine**_

_Sorry, Bitterman, he's asleep. You missed your chance_, thought Carson as he gently maneuvered himself and Kurt so that they were in their usual sleeping positions. _So sorry. Wait, no. I'm not. Fuck off._

"Goodnight, Kurtsie," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin right beneath Kurt's ear. "I love you." It only took him a few minutes to follow his twin into sleep.

He woke up several hours later, feeling stiff and slightly uncomfortable from sleeping in his clothes. The room was almost pitch dark, but he could see that the girls were still sleeping in the same positions they had been in hours ago. Kurt was still fast asleep, his solid warmth pleasant against Carson's body. Carson stroked his arm a little and smiled, thinking about how adorably horrified Kurt would be when he saw the way his hair was sticking up in the morning.

"Aaaaaw, how sweet. Late night lover cuddles," said a familiar raspy voice in the dark. Carson managed not to jump, not wanting to disturb Kurt. He focused his eyes on the side of the bed, where he could just barely make out Santana perched on the floor, her arms crossed and a sly look on her face.

"How long have you been sitting there staring at us?" he whispered irritably.

"Long enough to start shipping you two," she answered, as if she were discussing the weather. "Did you know that sometimes you sigh and whisper "Kurtsie" in your sleep? It's really quite adorable."

"I do not," said Carson, knowing he was blushing and feeling extremely grateful that it was dark and Santana couldn't see it. He frantically wondered if she was right or if she was just fucking with him. "And even if I do, so what? Neither of us are the heaviest of sleepers. Talking happens sometimes."

"Uh-huh," answered Santana. "Whatevs."

Kurt stirred then and let out a huge sigh. "Oh my god, Satan, shut up and leave him alone." Carson's heart leapt into his throat. He wondered how much Kurt had heard.

"I'm sorry, boys. Don't mind me. Please, carry on spooning each other like the adorable little couple you are," said Santana, clearly enjoying herself. "It's very sweet. Weird, nauseating, and probably extremely emotionally unhealthy, but sweet."

"Oh, shut up," said Carson, deciding to ignore her and hoping that the embarrassment would blow over quickly if he just fell back asleep.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning. The room was bright with sunlight and most of the girls were awake, milling around the room like zombies. Carson made to hug Kurt to him and sleep for five more minutes, when he realized he was holding nothing. Kurt was gone.

"Kurt?" he asked, sitting bolt upright.

"He snuck out with Berry," said Santana, who was carefully taking locks of Quinn's hair in hand and studying them carefully before taking a pair of scissors to them. Carson didn't even want to know what the hell was going on there. "He's been gone for like two hours. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't wake up. Don't you have some kind of alarm or something that goes off if you're more than two feet away from him?"

Carson ignored her and grabbed his phone, about to text Kurt, when Kurt and Rachel suddenly walked through the door, looking like excited little kids on Christmas morning.

"Carson, oh my god, you'll never believe what happened!" squealed Kurt, sprinting toward him and practically bouncing on the bed next to him. "Rachel and I got to sing on the _Wicked_ stage! I mean, we snuck into the theater and I totally thought we were screwed when a security guard found us, but then he let us stay, and we were on the stage, and it was incredible, and now I can't wait to graduate so I can move back here, and wow, ok, did you just wake up?"

Carson nodded, not bothering to hide the smile that was forming on his lips at Kurt's enthusiasm. "Yeah...I was about to text you and ask what the hell you were thinking wandering off in a strange city by yourself with Trollberry, where anything could have happened to you, but...you know what, it was a long night, and you're safe, so just this once, I'm gonna spare you the lecture."

Kurt patted him on the shoulder. "I appreciate it, thank you."

Somehow, the club managed to crank out two half-assed songs by the time the competition started that afternoon, although Carson had no fucking idea how that happened. Some kind of glee club black magic, probably. Predictably, it ended up being one Finn and Rachel duet and one group number, and Carson almost threw up right there on the stage when Finn and Rachel decided to kiss after they finished their duet.

_Eeeeew, oh god, that's so fucking disgusting. We were already going to lose, but now we're probably not even going to place._

And he was right. They came in dead last. Surprisingly, Kurt didn't seem to be all that upset about it, which Carson was grateful for. He hadn't been looking forward to Kurt being depressed for the remainder of the weekend. They even both privately agreed that Santana losing her shit and trying to almost kill Rachel when they got back to the hotel was almost worth the loss.

"You still have the gum, right?" asked Kurt when they boarded the plane back home. It was going to be a very uncomfortable flight, that much Carson could tell. Santana still looked like she wanted to strangle Rachel. Carson hoped she would.

"Yeah, I've got it," he said, digging it out of his bag as they took their seats and handing it to Kurt. "Here, why don't you start chewing it now?"

Kurt followed the instructions and seemed to be in less pain this time as the plane took off. He still curled up with his head in Carson's lap, though, where he stayed for almost the entire flight.

"Do you still feel sick?" Carson asked him at one point, running his fingers through Kurt's hair.

Kurt shook his head. "No," he said. "Just felt like laying here."

* * *

"Oh my god, you should have seen it," Kurt said to Blaine as they sat at their usual table at the Lima Bean. It was the morning of the last day of school, and Kurt had accepted Blaine's offer to drive him there and stop for coffee first, not allowing himself to notice the brief look of sadness that had crossed Carson's face when he learned of this change of plans.

"We all looked at the top 10 list for the showcase, and we all just went numb," Kurt continued. "And then Jesse just kept going on and on about how Rachel and Finn's kiss is what cost us Nationals-"

"While I understand passion, I do think that was unprofessional," interrupted Blaine. "But...sorry. Keep going."

Kurt continued recounting the rest of the trip as Blaine listened attentively,

"I don't get it," Blaine said as Kurt finished. "You don't seem that sad at all."

'Well, it was still amazing," said Kurt with a shrug. "I mean, I flew in a plane for the first time in my life. I had breakfast at Tiffany's. I sang on a Broadway stage..."

"I love you," said Blaine suddenly.

All the air seemed to leave the room as Kurt just stared at him. Had he really said what he thought he just said? More importantly, what was _Kurt_ supposed to say? Was he supposed to say "Thank you?" Or "Me too?" He was pretty sure he was supposed to say something. But did he really return those feelings right now? He wasn't sure if he was ready to call this thing between him and Blaine _love_ yet. They'd only been dating for a few months, after all.

_He's waiting for an answer, Kurt. Just say something._

"…..I love you too," he said at last, not sure how he felt about saying it. Or how he felt about the fact that Carson's face was what materialized in his brain as he said it.

And so began one of the most confusing summers of Kurt's life. He constantly felt like he was being pulled in different directions. On one hand, Blaine was hot, he was nice, and most importantly, he was Kurt's boyfriend. This was the first summer ever that Kurt was part of a couple, and he did want to enjoy it. On the other hand, Carson complicated things. A lot. Kurt was still having a hard time sorting through all the romantic and sexual feelings he was harboring for him, no matter how much he tried fighting them, and he just felt so very awkward whenever he had to be in the presence of both boys at once.

And that happened a lot, now that there was no school to occupy their time. Kurt and Carson were back to their summer routine of visiting the community pool almost every day (their backyard pool was out of commission this year), and since Blaine's summer job as a theme park performer had yet to begin, he usually tagged along. And this made it anything _but_ relaxing for Kurt. He definitely enjoyed the view of Blaine in nothing but swim trunks, but he also quite enjoyed the amount of shirtless Carson he was getting to see on a daily basis. Apparently, he enjoyed it a _lot_, because more often than not he found himself staring more at Carson than at Blaine. It was a constant struggle to keep his staring in check and not be caught checking out his own brother. Or be caught with a raging erection whenever Carson helped him reapply his sunblock on his back (there had been a few close calls with that one, but Kurt was relatively sure that neither Blaine nor Carson had noticed. He hoped not, anyway. Oh god, he really _really_ hoped not. Although Blaine had been looking funny at him that one time...)

The fact that Carson clearly hated having Blaine around only added to Kurt's stress. Sometimes he wished something magical would happen that would just allow him to enjoy spending time with his boyfriend and his twin like a normal person, without the bullshit complicated feelings. Unfortunately, it seemed as if the fates had decided, from the moment of his birth, that Kurt's life must be a swirling vortex of hardship and conflicting emotions at all times. It was, apparently, his lot in life.

* * *

The summer did not start off on the right foot for Carson. At all. Not only was Blaine hanging around the house all the fucking time, but so was Rachel now that she and Finn were back together. It was like a never-ending circle of hell for him. If he wasn't having to deal with Kurt and Blaine making lovey dovey eyes at each other, he was having to deal with Rachel constantly talking, or worse, singing, and even worse, singing with Blaine. He was looking forward feverishly to the day Blaine's job as a performer for the summer show at a local amusement park started and he wouldn't have to deal with seeing his stupid face _every_ day.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen for another week, so for now he was stuck dealing with Blaine coming with him and Kurt to the local pool whenever they went, which was almost every day since it was so hot out. Carson wasn't sure what was worse, having to see Blaine half naked on an almost daily basis, or seeing Kurt blatantly looking at said half nakedness and clearly liking what he saw.

_What the fuck is so great about his body, anyway? It looks pretty average to me_, thought Carson bitterly every time he caught Kurt looking, which was often. _I could have abs too, you know. Not all of us have the time to work out_.

"You should take a picture. It would last a lot longer," he muttered to Kurt one day as he took a seat in a lounge chair beside him. Blaine was in the pool swimming laps, and even though Kurt was wearing sunglasses and had a copy of _Vogue_ open in front of him, Carson could tell he had been checking him out.

"Oh, come on, Carson. I wasn't looking," said Kurt, blushing and burying his face in his magazine.

"Yes, you were. He's not even hot," said Carson. "And he wears hair gel to the pool. I mean, seriously, what the fuck? He's going to ruin the drains with all the gel he's shedding in there."

"Be nice, Carsey," said Kurt, putting down his magazine and lowering his sunglasses to stare at him. "You don't have to be so hostile." He checked his phone and reached into his beach bag for his sunblock, holding the bottle out to Carson with a pleading pout. "Pretty please?" he asked.

Carson sighed, unable to resist the pouty face. "Yeah, fine. Come sit."

Kurt smiled and got out of his chair, perching himself delicately on the edge of Carson's and removing his light T-shirt. Carson sucked in a breath at the sight of all that smooth skin, as he always did. Kurt was extremely well-developed now, especially in the arms and chest, and he looked so good without a shirt that Carson just wanted to punch himself in the face. He released some of the sunblock into his hands and rubbed them together, placing them softly on Kurt's back as he began to rub it in.

"Mmm," murmured Kurt appreciatively, the sound going straight to Carson's dick. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to pop a boner here in public, especially not with the risk of Hobbit Breath sauntering over at any second. He spread the lotion across Kurt's back, working his way down lower and becoming more and more certain he was going to have a heart attack from the way his heart was thudding in his chest as his hands inched closer to the waistband of Kurt's shorts.

"Your hands feel nice," said Kurt softly, and Carson swallowed hard. _God, please let my dick behave, please please please..._

"Thanks," he replied, his hands inching around Kurt's waist and rubbing sunblock right above his hipbones. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but eventually his brain registered that Kurt was leaning back into him, and then his chest was flush with Kurt's back.

"Um," he said stupidly, not quite knowing what to do with his hands.

"Will you do my chest too?" Kurt asked, sounding a little uncertain. Carson's brain practically fizzled and died.

"Yeah...um...sure," he breathed, quickly pouring more lotion onto his hands and tentatively placing them on Kurt's chest, right beneath his throat. He rubbed slowly, taking his time and marveling at the smoothness of the skin there. It felt like silk. He moved his hands lower, realizing too late that he was about to make contact with Kurt's nipples.

"_Oh_," Kurt breathed as Carson touched them, and _fuck_, yeah, that did it for his dick. It was rapidly hardening. He squirmed, quickly moved his hands back up to the top of Kurt's chest and just rubbed mindlessly, trying everything he could to get his erection under control. He hoped he'd moved his crotch far enough away in time for Kurt to not feel it. He heard Kurt let out a shivery breath in front of him.

"Hey, guys, why don't we go...go get lunch," said Blaine as he suddenly came walking up, his voice trailing off a bit when he reached them. Carson hadn't even noticed him leave the pool.

"Blaine!" exclaimed Kurt, sounding just as surprised at his boyfriend's sudden appearance as Carson was. He pulled his knees up and whipped his sunglasses off, fiddling with them in his lap. "Yeah, sure. Let's do that," he said, his voice slightly higher than normal.

Blaine's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he looked at the two of them, but it was brief, and soon he had pasted on that annoying smile of his as he reached his hand out to help Kurt up. Kurt seemed to hesitate for a second before he accepted the help, letting Blaine pull him up and out of Carson's lap. Thankfully, his arrival had completely killed Carson's boner.

They went to a nearby pizza place for lunch, and Carson was once again reminded of how much everything about Blaine annoyed him when the boy actually sat there and ate his pizza with a fucking fork.

_What, is he worried that Kurt will think he's a barbarian or something if he dares eat pizza with his hands like a normal person? Who the fuck eats like that? A douchebag, I guess._

Apparently, Carson was making his annoyance more obvious than he thought, because Blaine looked up from his plate of pizza and gave him a curious look.

"What?" he asked.

Carson opened his mouth to make a smartass comment about the fork, but stopped when he saw the pleading yet warning look on Kurt's face. The one that said _"I know what you're thinking, but please, I'm begging you, don't say anything or I swear to god..."_

Carson sighed. "Nothing," he said, picking up his own pizza and shoving half of it in his mouth at once, just to make sure Blaine knew how real people ate.

Nobody felt like going back to the pool afterwards, so they all headed back to the Hummel/Hudson house, where they changed back into regular clothes and Blaine managed to convince Kurt to go out to a movie.

"You know, as a _date_," he said, stressing the last word slightly and glancing in Carson's direction, clearly indicating that Carson wasn't invited along. Kurt looked between the two of them and nodded.

"Yeah...yeah, ok," he agreed throwing a sympathetic look at Carson and turning back to Blaine with a smile. "Just let me go find a scarf. I'll be right back," he said, heading up the stairs to the bedroom and leaving Carson alone with Blaine.

"I trust you know my rules," said Carson, crossing his arms and giving Blaine a stern look. Blaine crossed his own arms and looked right back at him, which surprised Carson a little, because it had never happened before.

"I'm well aware of your rules, yes," said Blaine, narrowing his eyes at him. "You're really controlling and intimidating, you know that?"

"Forgive me for wanting to make sure that Kurt is protected," retorted Carson. "Quite frankly, I worry every time he comes home with huge bruises all over his neck. Are you perhaps part vampire?"

"Oh, that bothers you, does it?" said Blaine in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, he's my _boyfriend_, you know. Hickeys are kind of a perk of that. And incidentally, Kurt's not the only one with those after we go out," he added, moving the collar of his shirt down with one finger so that Carson could see a fading purple mark on his collarbone. "So maybe you should learn to lighten up."

"I'm ready!" said Kurt, coming down the stairs before Carson could say anything. Blaine fixed his shirt and smiled at him.

"Awesome, let's go," he said brightly, wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist and flashing Carson a triumphant look.

"I'll be back early, Carsey, ok?" said Kurt, giving Carson a sweet smile and a wave as Blaine led him out the door. Carson was still trying to process what had just happened and couldn't do much except nod and wave back.

"Be careful," he said quietly as the door closed behind them.

Despite Kurt's promise, he was gone for almost five hours. Carson had waited up for him in their bedroom, having escaped up there when Finn and Rachel had taken over the living room couch and started making out. Carson's choices were either to vomit all over them or go upstairs, so he chose the latter. When Kurt wasn't back after three hours, he started texting him out of habit to make sure he was ok, only to receive no reply. He thought back to his confrontation with Blaine earlier that day and hoped that Blaine wasn't taking his frustrations with Carson out on Kurt.

_If he hurts him, I will fucking murder his ass. I will_, was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself with his arms full of Kurt as his twin settled into bed, clearly trying not to wake him.

"Hi," said Carson.

"Oh, I was trying not to wake you up," said Kurt, finally settling into his usual sleep position. "You looked so peaceful."

"Looks are deceiving," muttered Carson, glancing at the bedside clock. "Jesus, you were gone for five hours. Do I even want to know?"

Kurt hesitated. "Probably not," he said. Carson closed his eyes and tried not to picture Blaine pawing at Kurt in the movie theater, or worse, in the backseat of his car. He snuck a glance at Kurt's neck and bit his lip to keep from crying when he saw the constellation of fresh hickeys peeking out from beneath Kurt's pajama top. Clearly, they were meant as a message from Blaine to Carson.

_Asshole,_ thought Carson as he felt Kurt slowly drifting off to sleep. He tentatively reached one hand up to his brother's neck and lightly touched his fingers to one of the hickeys, wanting to kill Blaine and yet at the same time wishing so badly to be the one who had left them.

_I really fucking hate my life_, he thought bitterly as he fell back into a restless sleep.

* * *

"Theme parks are stupid," grumbled Carson as he followed Kurt through the maze of families and children making their way toward the various rides and shows. "Rides are stupid. Sun is stupid. And being charged five bucks for a bottle of water is _really_ stupid."

Kurt sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. "Carson, if you think theme parks are so stupid, then why did you come with me?" he asked patiently, looking down at his park map and trying to figure out where the show Blaine was performing in was located.

"Are you kidding?" asked Carson. "If I didn't, you would probably go see the Hobbit King in his dressing room and come back with enough hickeys to spell out your name on your neck. I'm only trying to save your poor skin. It's not scarf season."

"Not necessarily true," Kurt protested. "I do wear scarfs in the summer, just not heavy ones. Besides, they wouldn't let me in Blaine's dressing room. Don't be silly. Ah, here we go," he said happily, having finally located the large theater in which a play based on "Rapunzel" was being performed three times a day. Blaine was playing the prince, and Kurt had promised him he would come to see it.

"Yay," said Carson, not sounding thrilled at all as they got in line for the next show. "You know, Rapunzel's prince is kind of the perfect role for Brady. In the original version of that story, the prince totally saw that Rapunzel was pure and innocent, and managed to coerce her into sex and knock her up."

"Oh my god Carson, could you not?" Kurt said, panicked as he looked around at all the parents and small children around them in the line. Several of the parents were giving Carson dirty looks.

"I'm just saying," said Carson in a lower voice. "Rapunzel's prince was kind of a douche, and so is Bilbo. It fits."

"Shhh," Kurt pleaded. He hoped Carson would be able to sit through the entire play without shouting something embarrassing at the stage when Blaine came on.

He almost did make it, except for one moment after Prince Blaine begged Rapunzel to let down her hair.

"Why?" asked Carson, loud enough to be heard by the entire audience plus Blaine and the actress playing Rapunzel on the stage. "So you can get in there and jump on all her furniture?" Both Blaine and the girl ignored him. Some of the audience tittered. Kurt blushed with embarrassment and hid his face in his hands. "Carson, oh my _GOD_," he whispered. "Could you please stop?"

"Sorry," muttered Carson. Thankfully, he sat through the rest of the play in silence. They filed out of the theater afterwards and Kurt's phone immediately lit up with a text message.

_**What the hell? -Blaine**_

Kurt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

_**I'm sorry. Carson will be Carson. -Kurt**_

_**Whatever. Should we meet up later? I've only got one show left today. -Blaine**_

_**Sure. Meet us near the bumper cars in an hour? -Kurt**_

_**Ok. -Blaine**_

"Ok," said Kurt, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "Blaine's meeting us after his next show."

"Joy," said Carson sarcastically.

"Carson, come on, please?" said Kurt with a sigh. "Honey, I love you, but I really wish you would at least try to be a little less surly. Please? For me?" He stuck out his lip and gave Carson the pout that never failed to work.

Carson sighed. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I just-"

"I know," said Kurt, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Blaine's not your favorite. Just try, that's all I ask."

"Ok," Carson mumbled. Kurt smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you," he said, bringing a thumb up to stroke Carson's face.

They spent the next hour exploring the park's gift shops until it was time to meet Blaine by the bumper cars. He got there before they did. Kurt could see him leaning against the fence that led to the ride's line, checking his watch and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, smiling as he saw Kurt, the smile faltering quite a bit when he saw Carson behind him.

"Hey," said Kurt, walking up to him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Were you waiting long?"

"Not really," said Blaine. "Now that I'm free, do you want to ride something? I was watching the bumper cars while I waited for you. I kind of wanted to try them."

"Sure," agreed Kurt. "Carson?" he asked, turning to his twin. Carson shrugged, his face stony.

"Ok," said Kurt, ignoring Carson's silence. "Let's get in line, then." They entered the line for the cars, nobody saying very much while they waited. The uncomfortable tension between Blaine and Carson was palpable, and Kurt was beginning to wish he had tried to convince Carson to stay home, especially once they each got into their respective cars. Kurt took one look at the mischievous glint in Carson's eye as his twin fixated on Blaine's car and he suddenly had a bad feeling about this ride.

_He's not going to show Blaine any mercy, is he?_

No, as it turned out. No, he wasn't. Carson was ruthless, repeatedly maneuvering his car to ram into Blaine's, mostly from behind, and with maximum impact. Blaine himself was starting to look like he'd like to run Carson over with his car by the time the ride ended.

The day suddenly couldn't end fast enough for Kurt.

* * *

One hot, sweltering night in the middle of July found Carson and Kurt shirtless and sweaty in their bed, wearing nothing but their boxers as they tried to ignore the unbearable heat. Their new house had central air conditioning, but the unit was broken and wouldn't be fixed for several days. They had taken to sleeping shirtless again like they had during previous summers, which was fine with Carson. Any time he had a shirtless Kurt leaning up against his chest as they watched movies on Carson's laptop was fine with him.

"You know," said Carson, grinning as Kurt rolled his eyes and set his mouth in a line, "I'm actually _really_ glad you made me watch this movie." He picked up the rental case for _Pretty in Pink _and grinned down at it.

"Carson, I swear to god..."

"Because," Carson continued, "Now I have the perfect thing to say the next time I hear anyone say your hobbit's name."

"Carson..."

"It's a major appliance," recited Carson gleefully.

"Stop it."

"Not a name," Carson finished, with a big, cheesy grin on his face.

"You're going to quote that with joy every chance you get, aren't you?" said Kurt, exasperated.

"Yep," replied Carson, yawning and reaching for his glass of Sprite. The ice in it had all but melted, much to his chagrin. Only a few chunky pieces remained.

"It's hot," complained Kurt, lazily bringing one hand up to fan himself. "I feel like I'm going to melt into a puddle."

"You won't," said Carson. "The ice in my drink did, though," he said, narrowing his eyes at the glass and sighing.

"Wish I was that ice," murmured Kurt. Carson glanced down at him and swallowed. He knew Kurt was uncomfortable, but all the sweat glistening on his chest was seriously doing things for Carson. Good things. _Very_ good things.

"I could dump this on you if you want," Carson teased, indicating the glass of liquid. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Not gonna lie, that would probably feel really good," he said. "I'm seriously going to die of heatstroke over here."

Carson glanced down at the two remaining chunks of ice in his drink and had an idea. He gingerly fished out one of the cubes and put the glass back on the nightstand, bringing the cube up to Kurt's neck and lightly touching it to his skin.

"Eeep!" Kurt yelped. "Warn a guy, would you?" he exclaimed, rubbing at his neck while Carson bit back a grin.

"Hey, you said you were hot," Carson answered him practically. "I was just trying to help you out."

"Actually, that felt kind of good," Kurt said after he had given Carson a swat on the arm. "Do it again."

Carson obliged, touching the ice cube to Kurt's neck again and sliding it around. Kurt closed his eyes and sighed, throwing his head back to give Carson better access. It was sexy as fuck, and Carson had to bite his lip a little to keep from outright panting at the sight. His hand dipped lower, touching the ice to Kurt's chest as Kurt opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Feels really good," he said softly, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He did that every so often when he was deep in thought, and Carson wasn't sure he was even aware that he did it, but every time he caught him doing it, he couldn't help but picture that tongue doing _other_ things.

"Thought it might," answered Carson, sliding the ice across Kurt's chest and collarbone, relishing the vision of Kurt sighing with pleasure. He wondered if this was what Kurt would look like in bed. Well, not in bed, obviously, since Carson already knew what that looked like, but _in bed. _He drew the ice away and watched as Kurt pouted slightly, drawing his eyebrows together in frustration.

"Put it baaack," he whined. Carson smiled and placed the ice back on Kurt, accidentally brushing his nipple with it and gasping as Kurt actually let out a moan. He caught Kurt's eye and they stared at each other for several seconds. Carson wasn't sure at what point he realized it, but eventually he registered that their faces were getting closer together.

_Oh god, not again. I really CAN'T kiss him this time, or he'll feel guilty because of the hobbit. I can't do that to him, I can't...stop...Carson STOP...he doesn't even feel the same way about you, STOP..._

The sound of Kurt's phone ringing snapped them both out of the moment. They stared at each other for a second, Kurt looking shocked and Carson unsure what to say.

"You should, um.." said Carson, indicating the phone.

"Oh, yeah," said Kurt, shaking his head and reaching for the phone. "Hi, Blaine," he said into it, closing his eyes and cradling his face in one hand. Carson fiddled with the ice in his hand, letting it melt as he listened to Kurt's side of the conversation.

_I hate that hobbit,_ he thought bitterly. _I really do._


	16. Chapter 16

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! I'm sorry this chapter is a little late. It required a little more planning time than most because now we are in the boys' senior year and are juggling both Glee and SBL canon. Now, we know that some people have expressed concerns that the fic is rather Klaine heavy at the moment, and we want to reassure everyone again that this won't be the case forever. We promise. Klaine's not endgame here. Also, this chapter will contain mild spoilers for SBL, so if you haven't seen the movie yet or read the novel, please be aware that plot points from it will be mentioned. And as always, we love you, our readers, more than Carson loves Kurt's angelic singing voice.**

**Ok, that's everything. Let's read!**

"Blaine..._mmm_...Blaine, stop, come on," protested Kurt with a giggle, pushing on his boyfriend's shoulders and trying to pry him off of him. They had just been on a Breadstix date and were now parked a little ways down the street from Kurt's house, where Blaine had promptly started attacking Kurt's lips and had now worked his way down to his favorite spot right where Kurt's neck met his shoulder. Currently, he was sucking what felt like a pretty impressive bruise into that spot. And, while it felt nice and everything, now really wasn't the time.

"Mmmph, no," said Blaine, continuing his assault on Kurt's neck.

"Tomorrow is the first day of school, Blaine, and I don't really want to show up with a million hickeys," insisted Kurt, pushing at Blaine again until Blaine heaved a huge sigh and stopped. "Jacob Ben Israel is probably going to be doing that weird thing where he stalks all the glee club members for camera interviews about our summer, and I don't want to have to answer any awkward questions." He flipped open the visor mirror and examined his neck closely.

"Ugh, damn it," he groaned, pressing his finger into the large, angry bruise Blaine's lips had left. "I don't even know if I have enough makeup to cover this."

"Sorry," said Blaine with a shrug, not really sounding like he meant it. "You're just kind of delicious."

"I'm not food, Blaine," said Kurt, sighing in frustration. "Oh, well, I guess I can wear a scarf. You should probably take me home now. It will take me a while to plan for tomorrow."

Blaine started the car's engine without a word and drove the rest of the way to Kurt's house, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips when he pulled into the driveway.

"I guess I'll see you sometime this week, then," he said cautiously. Kurt gave him a quizzical look.

"So did you...?"

"I haven't decided yet, Kurt," said Blaine with a sigh. "I just haven't. I'm sorry. I promise I'll decide soon."

"I just want to see you more," said Kurt, not bothering with a pout. That only worked on Carson, and Blaine seemed, thus far, to be immune to its charms. But he wished Blaine would make a decision. He had asked him over a month ago to consider transferring to McKinley, and Blaine had promised he would consider it, but so far there had been no decision made. And he _really_ wanted Blaine at McKinley, even if Carson would absolutely hate it. Maybe he was being selfish, but he really didn't want to spend his senior year barely seeing his boyfriend. If Blaine transferred, they could spend so much more time together. And who knew? Maybe Carson and Blaine could at least learn to tolerate one another. Kurt hated for two of the most important people in his life to be at such odds with each other.

_Carson won't ever tolerate him_, nagged the little voice in the back of Kurt's mind. _He won't, Kurt. He doesn't like him, because he has feelings for you. Deep down, you know this. You do. And they're feelings that you return, in case you forgot._ Kurt silently pleaded with the little voice to shut up and accepted the second kiss Blaine placed on his lips.

"I'll call you," Blaine said as Kurt reached for the door handle. "Love you."

"Love you too," said Kurt, still not entirely used to saying those words to someone who wasn't Carson. "See you." He got out and waved as Blaine backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.

_Now I guess I need to plan an outfit for tomorrow that involves a scarf_, thought Kurt as he walked up the driveway toward the front door, smiling as he passed the 1973 Corvair convertible Carson had recently acquired from a neighbor who was ready to junk it. It was easy to see why it was a candidate for the junk yard. It barely started half the time and was in desperate need of replacements for just about every part, but Carson had fixed it up as best he could (even if he didn't let Kurt drive or ride in it, insisting that the SUV they'd shared for two years was much safer). At least now they both had their own cars and didn't have to rely on each other for rides. Carson had clearly been busy washing the convertible today, because while it was still an almost useless piece of crap, it was clean and shiny.

"I'm home!" exclaimed Kurt brightly as he entered the house. "Still alive and in one piece!" _Except for the hickeys. _"Where is everyone?"

"I'm in here," came Carson's voice from the kitchen. Kurt entered the room to find Carson bent over the table amid a sea of posterboards, markers, and colored pencils. A small stack of completed, colorful posters that said "_JOIN THE WRITERS' CLUB_" was set neatly on the opposite side of the table, and Carson was in the middle of putting the finishing touches on another, peering carefully at it over the rim of his glasses.

"Finn is out with Trollberry, and Dad and Carole are still at work," Carson said, completing his answer to Kurt's question. "I would ask how your date went, but on second thought I probably really don't want to know."

Kurt came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Carson's chest, pressing a kiss to his temple and hugging him tight. "It was...fine," he said. "You've been hard at work, I see," he added, indicating the posters.

"Yep," said Carson proudly. "These are some of my best work, if I do say so myself. I desperately need new members for the club. It can't just go on with me and Malerie. And more than that, I _really_ need more members for the paper staff. If I can get people for one, I may be able to convince them to join the other."

"I'm sure you can find members," said Kurt. "I can help. I can ask people in my classes if they're interested. Hey, maybe I could even write some things for the paper. I'm not sure how good it will be, but I can try."

Carson craned his neck to look at him, giving him a smile. "Thanks, Kurt, but you don't have to. You'll be busy enough this year."

"Well, I'm always available if you need the help," Kurt insisted.

"I know," said Carson. He sighed and looked back over to his stack of posters. "This is it, Kurt. Senior year. This is my last chance to leave my mark before I leave this place."

Kurt smiled, kissing the top of Carson's hair. "You will."

* * *

This year was going to be perfect, Carson decided. Well, maybe not perfect, but he was definitely going to put more of an effort into getting shit done. He may have slacked a little bit last year, yes. He was so preoccupied with personal drama, what with his father's heart attack, Kurt's bullying, and that fucking asshole hobbit, that he may not have given the paper or the Writers' Club quite the full attention they deserved. That was going to change this year. He was going to pour his heart into them like he never had before, and what's more, he was going to start regularly attending student council meetings. He'd technically been on that council for years by default as the editor of the _Muckraker_, but had never regularly been to the meetings because he found every last member of the council to be overwhelmingly insufferable. They were even worse than the glee kids, and that was saying a lot.

He had to make this year count, though. This was his last year to really shine and make a difference, and hopefully impress the fuck out of the admissions office at Northwestern. That was the most important part. He had to get into that school. He just had to.

Step one was to recruit new members for the paper and the Writers' Club. That was what the posters were for. He had made enough to hang strategically around the school where every conceivable type of student would see them and hopefully be compelled to join. Or at least be compelled to write for the paper. He had left early enough so that he had time to hang them before the drooling masses all started arriving and clogging up the halls, even remembering to account for extra time for his piece of shit car to start. He felt pretty good as the stack of posters in his hand slowly dwindled as he made his way around the almost empty school.

_There_, he thought with satisfaction as he finished hanging the last poster in the hall outside Figgins' office. _These should convince SOMEONE to join, right?_

"Writing sucks," said a random student in a letterman jacket, intentionally bumping Carson's arm hard with his shoulder as he passed him.

"Screw you!" shouted Carson, rubbing his arm and scowling after the guy. Ok, so that didn't count as part of his fresh new start to the year.

"What was that about?" Carson turned around to see Kurt walking up to him, frowning in the direction the random jock had taken and reaching out to rub gently at Carson's arm.

"Oh, it was nothing," said Carson, tingling a little at the feel of Kurt's fingers on him through his sleeve. "Just another neanderthal asshole like all the others we've dealt with in all our time in this prison. No biggie."

"He hurt you, though," said Kurt, his hand still on Carson's arm.

Carson shrugged. "Didn't hurt. Are you ready for homeroom?" he asked. Kurt nodded and slung one arm around Carson's shoulder. Carson's stomach did a little somersault.

"Yeah, let's go see what terrifying things await us on our schedules this year."

As it turned out, the first day of school ended up not being exactly what Carson was hoping for. For one thing, his first class after homeroom was Algebra 2, which he was expecting, of course, just not quite so early in the morning. On top of that, both Finn and Brittany were in that class with him, and he honestly didn't think he could survive the entire semester with the both of them constantly asking him for answers, like he either knew or gave a shit.

"I don't fucking know," he whispered fiercely to Finn after the fourth time the other boy had leaned over to his desk to ask how to work a problem. "Look in the book and figure it out for yourself."

The one bright spot in his schedule was that he and Kurt were in the same English class, which was dampened somewhat by the fact that Santana was in that class too and kept giving them little smirks the whole time. Carson decided he could deal with that as long as he got to sit beside Kurt and ignore her. Especially since Kurt seemed to get really clingy when he noticed her doing it, and scooted his desk and chair as close to Carson's as possible without actually sitting in his lap. Thankfully, the teacher didn't notice because they were in the back of the class, so Carson decided he could definitely get used to clingy Kurt.

And then there was journalism class, of which he was still, sadly, the only member besides Malerie. There wasn't even a teacher. He still hung on to a small shred of hope that someone, anyone, would see his posters and at least decide to join the Writers' Club.

No such luck. He stayed in the journalism classroom for forty-five minutes after school listening to Malerie recount the plot of _Pride and Prejudice_ as if she had written it, but nobody else showed up. By the time he shuffled through the halls on his way out the door to go visit Grandma, he was very discouraged indeed.

He wasn't expecting to see Kurt still at school, since there wasn't a glee meeting scheduled and he figured that his twin would be hanging out with Blaine after school let out, but there he was in the hallway, staring at one of Carson's posters with an odd look on his face. Carson watched as Kurt reached up and carefully took the poster down, folding it neatly in half and walking toward a nearby trash can.

"Um...Kurt?" asked Carson, walking up to him. Kurt turned around and looked guiltily at him, looking like he wanted to hide the poster behind his back, but thought better of it.

"I didn't want you to see," he said quietly. Carson gently took the poster from him and unfolded it to discover that someone had written "_YOU SUCH COCK_" on it in huge, bold letters with a permanent marker. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"I was hoping I could get rid of it before you saw," said Kurt, looking uncomfortable. Carson tossed the poster in the trash and gave him a forced smile.

"It's alright, Kurt. I probably should have expected something like this," he said with a shrug. "I'm heading to Grandma's now. Are you heading home, or...?"

"Shopping with Rachel," answered Kurt. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Oh, yeah, I've survived worse," Carson lied, trying to sound light. "I'll see you at home later, ok?"

Kurt smiled cautiously at him. "Well...ok. I love you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

The second day of school didn't start out any better than the first. Algebra still sucked, more of Carson's posters were vandalized, and there was a glee meeting at lunch, during which Mr. Schue informed them that they were supposed to start playing music on a bunch of purple pianos he was planning to scatter around the school in order to recruit new members.

"Not that there's ever much learning going on at this school anyway, but won't that create a disturbance in the educational environment?" Carson had asked, not even sure why he was bothering to ask. He knew Mr. Schue wouldn't really address his question.

"Just do it," had been Mr. Schue's enlightening answer. "We need new members for the club, and we need them desperately."

Well. That was that, Carson supposed. He wasn't going to play a damn thing on those pianos, of course. He didn't know how anyway, even if he didn't think the idea was completely stupid. Luckily, the sight of Kurt scrambling up on top of one of the pianos and spreading out on his stomach distracted him from the urge to rush up and punch Mr. Schue right in his face.

He spent his study period trying a different tactic to get more students for journalism class. Namely, he went begging at each classroom door to door with a small speech he had prepared just in case the teachers allowed him to make it.

"I know some of you have got to be aspiring writers," he had said in front of each class he had been given permission to speak to. "So I'm just here to let you know that if you're interested, the _Muckraker_ still needs staff members, and the Writers' Club is always looking for new members and we will take anyone. Literally anyone."

This got him nowhere. At worst, it got pencils and spitballs thrown at him, and at best it got him pointed and laughed at.

_Well, that was a fucking waste of time_, he thought bitterly, shuffling down the hallway after an entire period spent dodging flying projectiles. _Does nobody write anymore? Jesus, I'm not asking for a lot here. Just a few people._

He was just passing Ms. Pillsbury's office on his way to his locker when he heard his name being called from inside.

"Carson!" said Ms. Pillsbury, gesturing for him to come inside. "I'd like to talk with you, if you've got a minute."

Carson stood awkwardly in the doorway until Ms. Pillsbury gestured for him to take a seat across from her at her desk. He obeyed, wondering what she wanted with him. He didn't need to have a college meeting with her. She already knew he was applying to Northwestern. He'd told her this repeatedly for the past year.

As it turned out, that wasn't what she wanted to talk about at all.

"So," said Ms. Pillsbury, absentmindedly straightening the cup full of pencils that sat on her desk as she spoke. "I, uh, couldn't help but notice that you're a little understaffed with the _Muckraker_."

Carson nodded, suddenly interested. "Yeah. Nobody seems to want to join the paper, or the Writers' Club. I tried going to different classes to recruit people, but..."

"Right," said Ms. Pillsbury with a nod. "Well, I think I can help you with that."

Carson sat up straighter in his chair. "You can?"

Ms. Pillsbury nodded. "Mm-hmm. See, there's a few seniors I know of who won't have enough credits to graduate unless they pick up an extra class. So, I've, um...taken the liberty of sticking them in journalism."

Carson couldn't believe his luck. Actual students handed to them just like that? Sure, they would probably be unenthusiastic and wildly unhelpful, but he could work with that.

"Wow, Ms. Pillsbury, I don't know what to say," he said. "Um...thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome!" She turned her attention to straightening her stacks of oddly specifically-titled pamphlets as Carson got up and left her office, feeling just a little bit optimistic despite himself. Sure, the responsibility for the paper would probably still fall mostly on his shoulders, glee club was going to suck this year, and the love of his life was dating the douchebag founder of Munchkinland, but those things really weren't any different from the norm. At least he would have _some _help with the paper. There was always Rachel bashing to make glee tolerable. Hobbit Feet went to school over an hour away. Maybe there was still hope to make this year a good one. At the very least, it wasn't like it could get any worse, right?

He should have known better.

* * *

"You're quiet," said Blaine, taking a sip of his coffee and looking carefully at Kurt from across the table at the Lima Bean. It had been an eventful second day of school for Kurt, what with glee club's new plan to recruit new members, plus his and Rachel's newly discovered plan to apply to the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts for next year (Julliard, as it turned out, did not have a musical theater program). Not to mention that he had had to discreetly take down two more of Carson's posters that had been defaced by jerks that morning (thankfully, Carson had not caught him at it this time. He hated for his twin to see his hard work demolished).

"No, I'm being passive aggressive," said Kurt. "You promised that by the first day of school, you'd make a decision. And yet, there you sit, cute as ever, but still in your Warblers blazer."

"I just can't bail on the Warblers," protested Blaine. "Those guys are my friends."

"Ok, alright, fine, one final sales pitch and then we can talk about making over Nancy Grace," said Kurt.

"Ok," said Blaine with an adorable grin.

"If you stay at Dalton," said Kurt, delivering the carefully planned argument he had decided to try out in a last-ditch effort to get Blaine to transfer, "You and I are competitors."

"That's true," agreed Blaine.

"And I'm just not sure that our budding love can survive that," continued Kurt cheekily.

"Let me get this straight," said Blaine. "I have to transfer because you're just afraid that I'm gonna beat you at sectionals."

"No, I'm afraid that _I'm_ gonna beat _you_. And I know what that does to you, when I win," said Kurt suggestively. Blaine chuckled.

"Look, I mean, honestly, I just...I just wanna see you more," said Kurt seriously. "I want my senior year to be magic, and the only way that's gonna happen is if I get to spend every minute of every day with you."

Blaine studied him quizzically. "And what will Carson say?" he asked. "In case you haven't noticed, he doesn't like me. How is he going to deal with being around us? I don't want to have to constantly deal with his attitude."

Kurt swallowed. "I'm sure it will be fine," he lied. "Just...just think about it, ok?"

Blaine said nothing, just reached his hand across the table to grab Kurt's.

* * *

Toward the end of the first week of school, Carson was beginning to wonder why the fuck he had ever thought this school year would be any better than previous years. There was just as much bullshit to deal with, if not more. First, as much as he appreciated having any students in journalism class at all, the three students that Ms. Pillsbury had stuck in there were as good as useless. They consisted of a hopeless pothead named Dwayne, whom Carson was pretty sure he had never seen _not _high as a fucking kite, a goth girl with an attitude named Vicki, and a foreign exchange student from El Salvador named Emilio, who only seemed able to say "I love America" in English. In other words, they weren't helpful in the least. He'd put Dwayne and Vicki on movie reviews and weather, respectively, and had no idea what to do with Emilio, but he didn't think it would much matter anyway. None of them seemed all that enthusiastic to be there. There was also Malerie, of course. She was about as useful to the paper as she had ever been, but at least she was doing something that somewhat resembled trying.

There were still no takers for the Writers' Club, though. It remained the sad, lonely little two-person pity parade it had been last year. And the less said about the student council, the better.

On top of that, glee club was just plain pissing him off with the whole purple piano thing, especially after it caused a food fight in the cafeteria. Not just because it had permanently stained one of his best hoodies with pasta sauce, but because he didn't appreciate food being thrown at Kurt.

"They could have taken your eye out with all that flying pasta," he'd grumbled when he and Kurt had gone into the bathroom to attempt to clean up.

"Oh, Carson," Kurt had replied with an amused smile. "It's fine. No harm done. I'm definitely going to have to send this outfit out for dry cleaning, though."

And then, just when Carson thought his week couldn't possibly get any worse, it did. It got _so_ much worse.

He was going around the school during lunch on Thursday, putting up new posters to replace the ones that had mysteriously disappeared (he suspected that they had been defaced just like the one on Monday, and that Kurt, bless his sweet little heart, had been responsible for their disappearance so that Carson wouldn't see). He was just hanging his last poster when he heard the unmistakable sound of music coming from the courtyard.

_Probably another glee club thing,_ he thought as he made his way out there to check it out. _Nobody better throw a fucking thing at Kurt this time, I swear to god._

What he saw when he entered the courtyard made him wish he _had_ walked in on another food fight, because what he saw was ten times worse.

It wasn't the glee club performing at all. It was Blaine Fucking Anderson, dancing like a fucking idiot on the courtyard steps and singing a terrifying rendition of "It's Not Unusual." In the middle of the goddamn day. And he wasn't wearing that stupid Dalton uniform, although Carson almost wished he was, because what he _was_ wearing was ugly as sin and included both highwater pants and a fucking bow tie. And there was Kurt watching him, looking like it was the best thing he'd ever seen in the entire history of ever.

The tornado of jealousy that suddenly stirred within Carson very nearly knocked him down, although he was momentarily distracted from it when Quinn Fabray tossed a cigarette onto the purple piano that was providing most of Blaine's background music, causing it to burst into flames.

_Appropriate_, thought Carson smugly. _Poor piano is probably glad to be put out of its misery_.

"Weird things like that happen sometimes," he heard Kurt saying to Blaine, both of them watching the flames being put out as Carson walked over to them. "You'll get used to it...Carson!" he exclaimed, suddenly noticing Carson's arrival. He smiled nervously, looking between him and Blaine, who looked less than thrilled to see Carson.

"Kurt," answered Carson, slinging one arm possessively over his brother's shoulder. "Mayor of Munchkin City," he said, acknowledging Blaine and pasting a fake smile on his face as he looked him up and down. "Tell me, what _are_ you doing here? Are you here to warn us of an impending flood? I only assume, of course, since your pants are so very, very high."

Blaine gave him a hard look. "Actually, I just transferred here," he said smugly. "Because Kurt _asked_ me to. And, well, I just _couldn't_ say no," he continued, grabbing Kurt's hand and flashing Carson a mouthful of teeth. "Isn't that right, Kurtsie?"

Kurt looked extremely uncomfortable, caught in the middle with Carson on one side and Blaine on the other, and was looking down at his shoes. Carson's smile faded. He felt as though someone had just poured a bucket of icy water over him at this piece of news. He wanted to scream. He wanted to inform Blaine in no uncertain terms (and preferably with his fist) that nobody fucking called Kurt "Kurtsie" except him. Most of all, he wanted to protest and insist that there surely had been some kind of mix-up, because of course Kurt wouldn't do this to him, right?

Except yeah, he had. Carson could tell from Kurt's face that everything coming out of the hobbit's mouth was, unfortunately, the truth.

"Right," he said slowly, hoping he wouldn't throw up. "Well, I, um...I have...posters to hang," he said quietly, removing his arm from Kurt's shoulder and stepping back, preparing to leave the courtyard. "I'll see you at home tonight, Kurt."

"Carson," Kurt protested, grabbing his hand to try to stop him from leaving. "Don't-"

"I'll see you later," Carson repeated in a _Please don't right now_ voice, giving Kurt's hand a gentle squeeze as he moved away from them and hurried out of the courtyard, wondering if this school year could possibly get _any_ worse after this.

He went through the rest of the day like a zombie, trying his best to pay attention in his classes, but only able to concentrate on the fact that he was now going to have to deal with Blaine every fucking day now for the rest of the year. Every goddamn day. Hobbit would probably join glee, too, and Carson would have to deal with his obnoxious showboating _and _seeing him being all fucking cozy with Kurt. The very thought made him want to vomit.

Journalism class only made his rotten mood worse. He got uninterested silence from everyone except Malerie, who cheerfully said that she had another short story for the paper.

"Let's hear it," Carson said with a sigh.

Malerie smiled and stood up, holding her notebook and clearing her throat. "Squire Hawkins sat upon the pyramid of large blocks, called the "stile," in front of his house, contemplating the morning. The locality was Obedstown, East Tennessee-"

"Malerie, I'm gonna stop you right there, because I know for a fact you didn't write that," Carson said, trying to keep his voice even. He usually tried to reign in the snarkiness with her, since she was the only one who actually seemed interested in writing at this school besides him, even if she suffered from a tragic lack of original ideas.

"Um, yeah, I wrote it," protested Malerie, holding the notebook up for Carson to see. "See?"

"Mark Twain would beg to differ, Malerie," said Carson patiently. Vicki snorted. Carson shot her a warning look as Malerie sat back down and slowly closed her notebook.

"Good try, though," Carson said as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. "Hey," he said, addressing his class of four, "Don't forget that the Writers' Club meets today, so if you...if you want to..." he trailed off as everyone eagerly stampeded out of the classroom except for Malerie, who remained in her seat and gave him an eager smile.

As usual, nobody showed up for the club. And the cherry on top of the sundae that was Carson's horrible day was that Grandma was having one of her off days where she insisted that Carson leave almost as soon as he got there.

By the time he finished all his homework, made a new stack of posters just in case of random acts of vandalism, and said a half-hearted goodnight to his father and Carole, he was ready to just fall asleep forever and forget about life altogether. He got into bed and tried to wait up for Kurt, who had gone to a NYADA prospective student mixer with Rachel and had yet to arrive home, but he was unable to keep his eyes open and quickly fell asleep. The next time he opened his eyes, Kurt was in bed beside him, settling himself into Carson's arms.

"How was the mixer?" Carson asked sleepily.

"It was...fine," answered Kurt, his voice indicating the exact opposite. "I might need to beef up my application with a few more extracurriculars, but, you know...that shouldn't be a problem...Carson?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you mad at me?" asked Kurt, the uncertainty in his voice apparent even through Carson's sleepy fog. "I mean, about...about Blaine transferring? Because I feel bad, and I knew you wouldn't exactly like it, but I _really_ wanted to spend more time with Blaine this year before college and everything, and I really want for you two to get along because that's important to me, and-"

"Kurt," Carson interrupted him, heaving a huge sigh. "Kurt, you know I can't ever be mad at you."

"Really?"

"Really. Irritated, yes, and extremely unimpressed with the idea of seeing Balthazar in my face every day, but I just can't bring myself to be mad at you. It's my one weakness," said Carson, holding Kurt tightly to him. He felt Kurt's body relax into the touch, and Kurt took one of Carson's hands in his own and brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's ok," Carson said, trying to convince himself just as much as Kurt. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Kurt's shoulder and kissed him there. "Go to sleep, Kurtsie...hey...Kurt?" he asked, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

"Mmm?" asked Kurt.

"Could...could you at least ask Brighton not to call you Kurtsie?" asked Carson quietly. "At least in front of me? Please?"

Kurt was silent for a minute. "I will," he said at last. "I promise."

Carson sighed and kissed Kurt's shoulder again. "Thank you."

"Goodnight, Carsey."

"Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

The next day was pure hell. Thankfully, Carson shared no classes with Blaine, since Blaine was a junior, but the other boy was a constant presence between classes, hanging on Kurt like a fucking barnacle as Kurt collected his books from his locker. And the worst part was that he always made sure to give Carson the douchiest of smug looks whenever Kurt wasn't looking, as though he knew exactly how much his presence pissed Carson off and was rubbing it in his face. Which he probably did, considering how gleefully he had shown Carson his fading hickey over the summer.

_Asshole_, thought Carson every time Blaine flashed him that irritating, triumphant smile. _Go fucking die in a pool of hair gel, please_.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Schue that afternoon as he entered the choir room with Blaine in tow. _Ugh, here we go_, thought Carson. "Let's hear it for glee club's newest member, Blaine Anderson!"

"I'm so thrilled," muttered Carson under his breath. Kurt elbowed him.

"Thanks so much, everyone," said Blaine in that irritating "_I'm just an innocent baby schoolbo_y" tone he seemed to have perfected from a young age. "I'm so thrilled to be here. It's gonna be a great year, I can feel it. We're all gonna go to Nationals!"

"Is he for real?" asked Carson as everyone else gave Blaine a round of applause. Kurt gave him a warning look.

"Carson, please?" he whispered. Carson sighed and crossed his arms.

"I just want Blaine to know that we're _not_ the Warblers," spoke up Finn. "You know, we're not into the bells and whistles, or the ball hogging, you know?"

"Finn, I never thought I would say this, but I kind of want to shake your hand right now," said Carson happily. Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed beside him.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" asked Blaine as he took a seat beside Carson, since there wasn't an extra seat beside Kurt. At least something had gone Carson's way.

"Well, yeah," answered Finn. "You set a bonfire in our courtyard."

"Actually, doorknob, that was an act of political protest," said Santana.

"Which leads me to the next order of business," said Mr. Schue. "Santana, you need to leave. It was you and the Cheerios who set fire to our piano. How could you do that?"

"Mr. Schue, Sue made me-" began Santana.

"Brittany didn't do it," said Mr. Schue.

"Yeah, I was gonna help, but I don't know. I'm a water sign, so..." said Brittany.

"Excuse me, but aren't we kind of desperate for members here? We're supposed to be bringing members _in_, not kicking them _out. _The pianos were stupid anyway," said Carson, not sure why he was defending Santana. "And besides, it was Quinn who set the fire. Go bitch at her."

"You're banned from glee," said Mr. Schue to Santana, ignoring Carson as usual. "Don't come back unless you can be as loyal to this club as the rest of the people in this room."

_Have we MET?_ thought Carson. _This damn club isn't exactly at the top of MY priority list, either._

"You know what? I could use a break," said Santana, getting up and leaving the room with her head held high.

"Well, that was unnecessary," said Carson, arms crossed. Mr. Schue went on to make a stupid speech about the club being united to win Nationals, which Carson didn't pay much attention to because Kurt had started clinging to his arm since Carson had protested Santana's eviction from the club, and Carson was enjoying it. A lot. He didn't come back to earth until he heard Mr. Schue ask if Kurt had an announcement and Kurt answered in the affirmative, letting go of Carson's arm, regretfully, and standing up to address the club.

"Right. Kurt Hummel is wading into McKinley High's shark infested political waters and running for student body president. I thank you in advance for your votes."

"Wait, you are?" asked Carson.

"He is," said Blaine. Carson glared at him.

"I am," said Kurt excitedly. Carson looked at him carefully, wanting to know why Blaine had clearly known about this before he had, but not wanting to spoil Kurt's excitement.

"You know I'll vote for you," he said with a smile, squeezing Kurt's hand as Kurt sat back down.

_And anyone who doesn't vote for him will have to deal with me_.

* * *

_What the fuck am I doing here_? thought Carson as he half heartedly followed the dance steps Mr. Schue and Mike were leading them in. _This whole thing is stupid. Nobody's going to be any better of a dancer after this than they were before, and Kurt doesn't even need to be here either. I don't care what anyone says, his sashay is sexy and could sin us Nationals all on its own_._ And calling this "Booty Camp" is just creepy_. _And someone should really ban the hobbit from wearing tight sweats, because I swear to god I'm going to be sick_. Kurt did a little sway then, causing Carson's thoughts to come to a complete halt as he focused on how awesome Kurt's ass looked in his dance clothes. That was the only reason Carson had even complied with the "mandatory" Booty Camp bullshit Mr. Schue had implemented as part of the club's new "Let's win Nationals" plan. That, and the stretches he had watched Kurt do earlier before the dancing started. Those were fucking hot, too.

"I'm going to put my light under a bushel, if only to shine brighter for the auditions tomorrow," Kurt was saying to Blaine as they followed the dance steps. Carson smiled. The auditions Kurt was referring to were the auditions for _West Side Story_, which they were doing as the school musical this year. Kurt was auditioning for Tony, the lead, and if he got it (and Carson had no doubt that he _would_ get it), it would make his NYADA application stand out that much more. Carson just wished Kurt would fire Brittany as his campaign manager for student body president, though. He really wanted Kurt to win that, too, and the ditzy cheerleader wasn't being at all helpful. Carson knew he could do a much better job managing Kurt's campaign himself, if Kurt would let him, but Kurt insisted that Carson had too much on his own plate to worry about Kurt's.

_That's my Kurtsie, always thinking of others_, thought Carson fondly.

"I'm still trying to decide between "Maria" and "Something's Coming," replied Blaine.

"Those are Tony songs," said Kurt, giving Blaine an odd look. "Are you auditioning for Tony too?"

_WHAT? Oh he'd better fucking not_, thought Carson, glaring at Blaine.

"Would that be weird?" asked Blaine.

"No, not at all. I mean, you'd be a great Tony," said Kurt. "You'd be the perfect Tony, in some respects."

"_Yes_, it would be weird," said Carson. "Kurt needs that part to get into college, and you're going to audition against him? What the hell?" Kurt gave him a _please stop_ look and Carson sighed.

"Well, except, I'm a junior," said Blaine, replying to Kurt and ignoring Carson's comment. "Tony's the lead, which means that a senior should probably play the part."

"You don't say," muttered Carson.

"Yeah, that is kind of how it works, huh?" said Kurt. Carson recognized that tone of voice. It was Kurt's "_I'm kind of irritated right now but I'm going to be passive aggressive instead_" voice. It made Carson smile to hear him using it with Blaine, who apparently didn't get the hint.

"I'd be fine with Bernardo or Officer Krupke, as long as it was opposite your Tony," said Blaine.

_Yeah, I'm so sure. Attention whore._

The next day, Carson made sure to get to the auditorium as soon as lunch period started to get a good seat for Kurt's audition. Kurt had been a nervous wreck the night before, and all that morning, and Carson had had to reassure him at least a hundred times that he would knock it out of the park.

"I've heard you practicing," Carson had told him. "You're perfect. Stop worrying, relax, and you will nail the auditions. Ok? Artie isn't Jesse. He'll recognize talent when he sees it, and I'm sure Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury will, too."

"Ok," Kurt had agreed.

Now Kurt stood before his small audience, smiling nervously. He caught Carson's eye and Carson gave him a reassuring smile and a wave.

"Hello, I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'll be auditioning for the role of Tony," he said confidently. "The male lead," he added.

"That's great, Kurt," said Ms. Pillsbury.

"I'll be performing the seminal, and, in my case, semi-autobiographical Broadway classic "I'm The Greatest Star," from _Funny Girl_," Kurt continued. Rachel had obviously influenced that song choice, but Carson had heard Kurt practicing it for days, and he had killed it every time. He couldn't wait to see what the three co-directors thought.

"Isn't that a Streisand song?" asked Coach Beiste.

_Yes, so what? He's perfect at it, just let him sing_, thought Carson.

"I know what you're thinking," said Kurt. "But, I got written permission from the woman herself- Ms. Rachel Berry. And I'd also like to thank Cassius from my dad's tire shop for kindly constructing my audition scaffolding," he continued, indicating the scaffolding in question behind him. "And my sweet big brother Carson, who helped Cassius. And served as my practice audience for this song." Carson smiled and glowed.

"You're welcome, Kurtsie!" he called.

"Ok, whenever you're ready," said Artie. Carson narrowed his eyes. _Let. Him. Talk._

Kurt smiled and launched into his song, turning in one of the sexiest fucking performances Carson had ever seen him do, to be honest, particularly when he started climbing the scaffolding (which Carson had personally checked, double checked, and tested to make absolutely sure it was safe for Kurt to climb and perform on, and even so he was still just a little bit worried that Kurt would hurt himself). He was torn between feeling nervous and extremely turned on when Kurt broke out the swords he had practiced spinning for the end of the number, but Kurt seemed to have an excellent handle on them, so Carson calmed down and settled for "turned on."

Not only was the performance flawless, but all three directors seemed to agree with Carson, judging by the praise and applause pouring out of them when Kurt finished. Carson positively glowed with pride as he stood up and clapped enthusiastically. There was no way Kurt wouldn't get that part.

"Yay, Kurtsie!" he exclaimed. He waited for Kurt to jump off the stage before running up to hug him tight.

"You were great!" he said as they exited the auditorium together. "And everyone loved it. I know you've practically got that part in the bag."

"Aaaaw, thank you. I hope so," said Kurt modestly. "Hey, I'm gonna go change my clothes before lunch is over. I'll see you later, ok?"

"Ok," agreed Carson. He went through the rest of the afternoon in a happy mood, for once. Finally, it looked like someone was going to recognize all of Kurt's talent and hard work and reward him with the role he deserved. Nothing could bring Carson's mood down after that. Not even the fact that his journalism students had once again contributed absolutely nothing to that week's paper and he was going to have to write all the sections himself again, just like always.

So when Kurt came through the door of the journalism classroom that afternoon in tears, Carson was just a little bit shocked, but also extremely pissed that something had upset Kurt so badly on what should have been a good day for him.

"Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong?" he asked, getting up from his desk and crossing over to his twin, wrapping him in a tight hug. Kurt didn't answer him. "What's wrong, baby? Talk to me."

"C-can I ask you something?" asked Kurt. "And can you be really honest with me?"

"Of course, Kurtsie. Of course you can," Carson soothed, leading Kurt over to a desk and gently sitting him down before taking a seat across from him and holding his hands. "What's wrong?"

Kurt took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "Am I too much of a lady?"

Carson stared for a second, not sure if he heard what he thought he had just heard. "What?"

"Am I less manly than other guys?" Kurt asked, sniffling.

"What kind of question is that? Of course you're not," said Carson. "Is someone giving you shit? Because I will kick their ass if-"

"Beiste said I'm not manly enough to play Tony," said Kurt flatly. "She said I'm too much of a lady. Her exact words."

Carson couldn't believe his ears. "She said WHAT? She said this to you?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, I was eavesdropping on her and Artie and Ms. Pillsbury outside the window of Ms. Pillsbury's office. And that's exactly what Beiste said, and nobody exactly argued with her."

Carson felt a flash of red hot anger course through him at Kurt's words. "What the fuck does she know? And who is she to talk? She gets pissed whenever anyone says _she's_ too manly. What right does she have to do the opposite to you?"

Kurt sniffed. "And then I asked Rachel to help me do a second audition. It was really quick and it wasn't much, just a scene from _Romeo and Juliet_ with some costumes we found in the closet backstage in the auditorium, but I thought it would at least show that I could be manly."

"And?" Carson asked, holding his breath.

"And they laughed at me. All three of them. And Rachel," said Kurt glumly. "I mean, they just laughed. It was so humiliating...Carson?"

Carson had heard more than enough. He had gotten up from his seat, still holding on to Kurt's hands. He gave them a gentle squeeze and looked Kurt in the eyes.

"Kurt, I want you to stay here for a minute. Just a minute. Can you do that for me?" he asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Yeah, but where are you going?" asked Kurt, his bottom lip quivering.

"To give every last one of those assholes a piece of my fucking mind," replied Carson, patting Kurt gently on the shoulder and stalking out of the journalism classroom and into the direction of the auditorium, where he suspected he would find the subjects of his rage (most of them, anyway...he would deal with Rachel later). There they were, all three of them sitting in the audience and discussing something among themselves. Carson stalked right up to them and faced them, arms crossed and steam practically pouring out of his ears.

"Can we help you?" asked Artie. "I didn't think you were interested in the play."

"I'm not here to audition, I'm here to ask you just what the hell you were thinking, laughing at Kurt when he tried to show you what he was capable of," snapped Carson. "Do you have any idea how hurtful that was? I really hope all three of you are happy, because he's in tears right now because of you. And it's _especially_ disgusting coming from you," he said, indicating Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury. "You're teachers. You're supposed to be encouraging students, not laughing at them when all they're trying to do is accomplish a goal. So, congratulations. You made a student cry. Way to go. Really, bravo. God, I wish I knew who to bitch at to get you fired. I hate every last one of you."

Not wishing to waste any more of his time talking to them, Carson turned and stalked back out of the auditorium toward the journalism classroom where he'd left Kurt. He passed Rachel in the hall on his way. She looked guilty when she saw him.

"Carson," she said. "Have, um...have you seen Kurt?"

"Why yes, Trollberry, I have fucking seen him. In tears, because you fucking laughed at him during his audition. The audition you were supposed to be helping him with, by the way, and when you're supposedly his friend now. If I wasn't more concerned with comforting him right now, I'd be fucking punching you in the face," Carson snapped, walking past her. He entered the journalism classroom to find Kurt sitting exactly where he had left him, his face streaked with dry tears.

"Hey," he said gently, sitting back down across from Kurt and cupping his face with his hand. "Hey, look at me. Please?" Kurt lifted his eyes and looked at Carson. Carson gave him a small smile and kissed his forehead.

"I want you to know that you're just as manly, if not more so, than any other guy," Carson said softly. "You are. You have no idea how masculine and sexy you are, and that saddens me."

"Really?" asked Kurt.

"Really."

"But they said-"

"Fuck what they said. They were wrong," Carson insisted. "I love you, and I wouldn't lie to you. Ok?"

Kurt nodded. "Ok."

"And if they get their heads out of their asses for five minutes, they _will_ see that. And you _will_ get that part. Because you deserve it," said Carson. Kurt sniffed once more and threw his arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he whispered.

"Me either," replied Carson, hugging him back. They stood there like that, in an almost exact mirror image of how they would be standing the next afternoon after they watched from above the stage as Blaine auditioned for the play with a Tony song, despite what he had said to Kurt about being happy with any other part.

_Unbelievable_, thought Carson angrily as he let Kurt sag against him, depressed after hearing Artie ask Blaine if he would read for Tony. _If he really gave half a shit about Kurt's feelings, he would have auditioned with another song. ANY other song but a Tony song._

"Can we go home?" asked Kurt in a small voice, muffled by Carson's hoodie.

"Yeah. Let's go," said Carson, leading him toward the back exit.

* * *

Kurt stayed depressed about Blaine's audition for several days. He didn't understand why it bothered him quite so much. After all, Blaine was free to audition for whatever role he wanted. He had just as much right to Tony as Kurt had, right? Who cared if Artie had asked him to read for Tony and Blaine had accepted? Maybe Carson was right and they would be able to see past Kurt's "ladyness" and weigh the auditions on their own merits. And most importantly, what kind of boyfriend was Kurt being if he didn't support Blaine just as much as Blaine had supported him?

"And how, exactly, has Frodo supported you?" had been Carson's question when Kurt had voiced these thoughts out loud one night as they got ready for bed. "He transfers to our school and then just auditions for a part he knows you want, and most importantly, a part he knows you _need_ for your NYADA application. Wow, what a guy. And tell me, where exactly was he when you needed a shoulder to cry on after Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury, with their evil minion Artie, crushed your spirit to smithereens? Because I have a feeling the answer to that question is that he was busy practicing the song he was going to audition against you with. And you're considering his feelings _why_, exactly?"

"Because I would feel like a horrible boyfriend if I didn't," replied Kurt. "And I guess I don't exactly _need_ that part. I mean, there's still a really good chance that I can win the class election, even if Brittany is working the whole girl power thing to her advantage."

"Brittany's a moron," Carson had answered, closing his laptop and removing his glasses. "I don't understand her claims that there have been only exclusively male school presidents for the past six years. I may hate Claire Mathews and strongly suspect that she was only put on this planet to make my life miserable during student council meetings, but I can't deny that she's definitely a girl, unless she's got a few secrets she isn't sharing."

"Yeah, how come she isn't running, anyway?" mused Kurt. "I'd think she would. She craves power."

"Probably because she's busy kissing up to Coach Sylvester so that she'll make her head cheerleader next year after Santana graduates," answered Carson.

"That probably explains why Santana didn't correct Brittany's claim," said Kurt. "You've been, um...talking with Santana a lot?" he asked carefully. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so damn much when Carson was friendly with Santana. He knew by now that neither of them actually had crushes on each other, but still. You never knew with Santana. And truthfully, Kurt was just a tad on the possessive side when it came to Carson. Not that he would admit it, or anything.

"Yeah, she pops by the journalism classroom sometimes," said Carson. "Why? I _told_ you, I'm not interested in dating her. She won't be able to lure me to some secluded cabin and have her way with me, if that's what you're worried about."

Kurt snorted. "Shut up. I don't care. She's not officially a glee traitor anymore. Talk to her all you want."

But he held Carson's arms just a little bit tighter that night when they went to bed.

And now here he was, walking up the outdoor steps at school where Blaine would be coming down any second, with a bouquet of multicolored roses he had picked up before school that morning. He was glad Carson was in class and couldn't see this. He'd have a fit over what Kurt was about to do.

"The cast list goes up on Friday," he said cheerily to Blaine when his boyfriend finally appeared on the steps. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," replied Blaine. "But I'm trying not to think about it."

"I wouldn't be," said Kurt, trying to sound reassuring. "My mole in the casting office says that there's only one actor they're seriously considering for the role of Tony, and his initials are B.A." That wasn't actually entirely true. Kurt had avoided Artie since the great _Romeo and Juliet_ laughing incident, and he had no idea what was being discussed by the directors. He had a pretty good idea that they were probably going to choose Blaine, though. He smiled and held out the flowers.

"Kurt, they're beautiful," said Blaine. "But what are they for?"

"You killed your audition, Blaine," answered Kurt. "If anyone else got Tony, including me, the wrath of Sondheim would fall upon William McKinley like a plague of Schubert Alley locusts. These are to celebrate. You."

Blaine smiled. "You always zig when you're about to zag, and I...I just...I love that about you." He looked like he was considering kissing Kurt, but thought better of it, giving him a pat on the shoulder instead.

"Thank you," he said.

"Right," said Kurt, disappointed, even though he could understand why Blaine didn't kiss him. Crowded school and all.

_If I win student body president, that can change_, he thought optimistically. _I can still win. It shouldn't be too hard to beat Brittany._

* * *

Carson was in a pretty good mood that Friday as he went about his school day. To start with, he had unexpectedly acquired two new recruits for the _Muckraker_ staff. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't even been looking for them. He'd just happened to accidentally discover Nicholas Forbes and Scott Thomas (treasurer and performing arts commissioner, respectively, on the student council) having secret, illicit sexytimes in the boy's bathroom after hours. At first he had just been afraid that it was Kurt and Blaine in there, which was the only reason he had loudly cleared his throat to announce his presence. To his relief, it wasn't them at all. He was all set to just get out of their way and forget what he'd heard, but then the boys had started just asking him what he'd want in exchange for his silence. And, well...Carson was an opportunist at heart, wasn't he? And that was how he'd had an easy enough time convincing them to write sections for the paper from now on, plus got them to pledge their votes for Kurt for president. He felt kind of like a terrible, hypocritical person blackmailing them like that, but it wasn't like he would _actually_ tell anyone. He wasn't a monster, and Kurt would murder him. But they didn't have to know that, did they? And _they_ were the ones who had started offering favors, so, whatever.

On top of that, the cast list for _West Side Story_ was set to go up that afternoon, and Carson was positive Kurt would get the part he needed. So what if the hobbit had auditioned against him for the same role? That didn't mean a damn thing. Those auditions were supposed to be based on talent, damn it. And maybe after Carson had set them straight, the directors had seen the light.

As he was beginning to learn, things never went right when he thought they might. He would have to remember this from now on.

Because first, Kurt had come into the journalism classroom that afternoon looking extremely depressed.

"Oh god, what's wrong now?" asked Carson. "Just tell me whose ass I need to kick."

"Trollberry's, if you feel up to it," answered Kurt glumly. "She's running against me for president now."

Carson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You know, I would say I'm surprised, but I'm not. Rachel is a selfish bitch and only looks out for number one. WHY the fuck is she running?"

"Because she was afraid Mercedes would get Maria over her, and she wanted something for her NYADA application," answered Kurt, sitting at an empty desk and playing absentmindedly with his thumb.

"Yeah, and she _has_ that. She practically got the fucking part when they double cast her and Mercedes, what does she need president for?"

Kurt shrugged. Carson gathered up his bag and held his hands out to Kurt, helping him up from the desk. "Well, come on. I'll make sure to kick Trollberry's ass for you later, but right now, don't you want to go see the cast list? I bet it's up by now, _Tony_."

Kurt gave him a sad smile and let himself be pulled up. "That's sweet, Carsey, but I doubt I got it."

Carson slung one arm around his shoulder and hugged him close as they left the classroom and walked down the hall, running into Blaine on the way, much to Carson's disappointment.

"I'm so nervous," Blaine said as they made their way toward the bulletin board where Artie had hung the cast list.

"Yeah, I would be nervous too if I had tried to steal a role my boyfriend desperately wanted and needed," muttered Carson. Blaine fixed him with a piercing glare, which Carson returned in kind.

Kurt sighed."Guys, please?" he asked. Carson tightened his grip on his twin's shoulder.

They reached the cast list and approached it as one. Santana, Brittany, and Rachel were already looking at it. Carson made sure to push past Rachel on his way up to the list."Move, Troll," he ordered. "And don't think I'm not going to make your life hell for screwing Kurt over again."

"Hey, I got it! I got Tony!" exclaimed Blaine, practically pushing Carson aside and hugging Kurt, burying his face in Kurt's neck. The look on Kurt's face was a heartbreaking mixture of happiness for Blaine (_ugh, Kurt, WHY)_ and disappointment.

_Nope. Nothing ever goes right at all._

* * *

Kurt had a feeling that accepting Santana's party invitation for the cast members of _West Side Story_ probably wasn't a good idea. Carson was coming too, of course, even though he wasn't in the play. Santana hadn't seemed bothered when she had informed Kurt and Blaine of the party at lunch several days earlier and Carson had insisted that he was coming too. In fact, she had seemed almost eager to let him attend, even specifically mentioning, with a wink in Kurt's direction, that there would be alcohol.

"I know how much _fun _you and Carson have when there's booze involved," she'd said before leaving their table to go see Brittany. Kurt had felt himself blush, and next to him Carson had almost choked on his sandwich. Blaine had looked over at them curiously.

"What's she talking about?" he'd asked.

"Who knows?" Kurt said quickly, busying himself with drinking his water and avoiding Blaine's gaze. He didn't want to have to explain to his boyfriend that he had made out with his twin at parties before, even if Blaine technically had been there the last time. Kurt doubted he remembered his and Carson's makeout since he had been wrapped up in Rachel at the time, and as far as Kurt was concerned, it could stay that way.

They had all gone together to Santana's house in the SUV the twins had shared before Carson had gotten his car. Kurt had driven, with Carson riding shotgun (he had practically pushed Blaine down in his hurry to claim the passenger seat) and Blaine in the backseat, not looking terribly happy to be sitting there.

"Sorry, hobbit, it's the rules," Carson had said as he slipped into the front seat. "Children and hobbits have to ride in the back."

"You know-" Blaine began to say, before Kurt had cheerfully insisted on turning on the radio to head off any arguments between his brother and his boyfriend. Needless to say, it had been a tense ride.

Now Kurt sat on the couch in Santana's living room next to Carson, watching Blaine and Rachel drunkenly perform a rendition of "Tonight" and privately reflecting, for what seemed like the millionth time, how disappointed he was that he never even had a chance at playing Tony. Not with Blaine around. Of course he was going to be cast. Kurt felt stupid now for even letting himself think he could ever get the part. Not to even mention how hurt and pissed off he was at Rachel still. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to this year. The fact that he was well on his way to being drunk wasn't doing anything to squelch those thoughts, either. He never usually drank (much) but tonight he really felt like it.

Next to him, Carson was just as drunk, if not more. He had one arm slung around Kurt's shoulder and was waving his party cup around carelessly as he made snarky observations about Blaine and Rachel.

"I don't...don't know how Rachel and Bill...Bob...Bixby...dunno how they got the leads," he slurred. "Mer...Mercy...Mermaids was a better singer. And...and you should've got Tony o'er that fuckin' hobbit."

Kurt smiled languidly and patted Carson on the knee. "Yer sweet," he said. He noticed Santana staring over in their direction with a smirk, and he pressed his body closer to Carson's, resting his head on his shoulder. "And you're reaaaally soft," he added with a sigh, nuzzling his face into Carson's neck. "And you smell kind of like grapes, and it's...it's real nice."

"...I like grapes," replied Carson after a minute, ruffling Kurt's hair with his free hand. "And you. Grapes and you, that's what I like."

Kurt giggled and pressed a sloppy kiss to Carson's ear. Blaine and Rachel finished singing then, and Blaine came up to them, clearing his throat.

"Kuuuurt!" he exclaimed, grabbing Kurt's hands and pulling him up off the couch just a little too fast, causing Kurt to stumble a little. Carson's hands on his waist kept him from falling, but suddenly Blaine was dragging Kurt off to a nearby dark room, which Kurt was pretty sure was the dining room from what he could see.

"Wasn't that...wasn't that good?" asked Blaine, wrapping his arms around Kurt and leaning into him until he had Kurt almost up against the wall, practically crushing Kurt's body against his. "I'll be the best Tony ever, right?"

"Right," agreed Kurt, trying to squirm free from Blaine's grip. Blaine just pressed him closer and leaned his face in close to Kurt's, until whatever he had been drinking from Santana's assortment of booze invaded Kurt's nostrils.

"Mmm, kiss meee," Blaine purred, pressing his lips hard against Kurt's in a sloppy kiss.

"Mmmph," Kurt muttered against the assaulting lips. "Bl-" He gasped when he felt Blaine's hands traveling down his back, resting right on his ass. This was new, and Kurt wasn't sure he was comfortable with it.

"Blaine," he protested, wriggling around and trying to dislodge Blaine's hands. "Come on, quit it."

"Come oooon, Kurt," cooed Blaine, pressing Kurt further up against the wall and not removing his hands. "You look hot tonight, baby."

"Blaine...mmmph," said Kurt as his protests were cut off by another rough kiss.

"Hey, hobbit, he said to stop," came Carson's voice. Blaine's lips left Kurt and when he moved his head Kurt could see his twin standing silhouetted in the doorway, his face a storm cloud.

"Carson," Kurt said with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. Carson crossed over to them and took Kurt by the hand, leading him toward the doorway and flashing Blaine a glare. "Come on, Kurtsie. San...Santa...Starlanda said that iss time for...for games."

"Games?" asked Kurt apprehensively. He had a bad feeling in his stomach. Nothing good (well...ok...actually REALLY good things...just things he didn't want his boyfriend witnessing) ever came from Santana's games.

"That's riiiiight," said Santana cheerfully as they re-entered the Lopez living room. "We're playing Truth or Dare, Hummel, and trust me, it's gonna be fuuuuun."

Kurt gulped.

* * *

Carson decided, as he sat between Kurt and Blaine on the couch in Santana's living room and tried to balance his drink cup between his knees, that he would have to learn to be very wary whenever Santana organized a party, and specifically, whenever she organized a party game. He had no idea how, but he had the feeling deep in his (extremely drunk) stomach that he and Kurt were probably going to end up kissing during this game. Kissing seemed to be a fucking theme tonight, as half the dares anyone gave each other involved lip locking. Santana had kissed Brittany. Brittany had kissed both Puck and Artie. Tina had kissed Blaine, which both amused and disgusted Carson, since he could have lived a very long and happy life without ever seeing Blaine kissing anyone that close-up, although he was glad it was Tina and not Kurt for once. Both Blaine and Tina had gotten a little too into it, which hadn't amused either Mike or Kurt.

_He'll just kiss anybody when he's drunk, won't he?_ thought Carson.

Anyway, it was practically a tradition now for Carson and Kurt to kiss at these things, and Santana was just the type of person to see to it that the tradition continued. She seemed to get some kind of weird kick out of seeing them kiss (and, ok, he also got a kick out of kissing Kurt, obviously, so why was he even complaining?). He had no doubt she would dare them to kiss each other at some point, especially with Blaine sitting right there. Truth be told, Carson was kind of looking forward to him watching. It would serve him right.

So when it got to be Kurt's turn and he picked a dare when Santana asked him truth or dare, Carson was extremely surprised (not to mention disappointed) when she narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms, and said "Give the hobbit a lap dance."

"What?" asked Kurt, Carson, and Blaine at the same time, all of them in decidedly different tones. Kurt sounded shocked, Blaine excited. Carson was pretty sure his own voice sounded pissed off beyond belief. The rest of the teens in the room looked on in interest.

"You heard me," said Santana, looking sternly at Kurt. "Go over there and give Mini Me the time of his young life."

"But...I don't know..." Kurt protested, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, if you're too chicken..." Santana said. She glanced ever so briefly over at Carson as she spoke and raised her eyebrows, as though daring him to challenge her. All he had the energy for was glaring at her.

"You don't hafta do it, Kuursey," he said as well as he could. He was a lot drunker now than he had been earlier. "Santa's jus' being a bitch."

"No," said Kurt determinedly, getting up on wobbly legs. "Know what? I'mma do it." Carson watched as Kurt stumbled over to Blaine. Santana clapped her hands.

"Excellent," she said. "Someone turn on some music so Hummel can shake his ass for us." Brittany eagerly got up and went over to the stereo system, fumbling with an iPod as she connected it to the dock.

"Kurt, no...San...Sandy...what the fuck are you..." said Carson, but he was interrupted as the opening notes of Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" loudly filled the room. Kurt looked uncertain what to do now that he was standing awkwardly in front of Blaine.

"Dance, Hummel," Santana ordered. "We don't have all night."

Kurt set his jaw and started dancing, using some of the moves Carson recognized from some of his previous performances, like "Push It" and "Born This Way." Only, unlike on the stage where Kurt was confident and _owned_ those moves, here he just looked uncomfortable and awkward, and Carson couldn't even find it sexy to watch him dance because of it. He just wanted to scoop Kurt up and run away with him to keep him away from the leering Blaine, who was apparently enjoying the show and not even noticing how uneasy Kurt was. The younger boy shifted in his seat and Carson noticed the front of his pants starting to tent.

_I would fucking murder you right here and now if I had the motor skills_, _hobbit,_ thought Carson, shooting a furious look over at Santana, who was smirking. She had also noticed Blaine's problem.

A hoot from Puck seemed to snap Kurt out of whatever had possessed him to start dancing in the first place, and he abruptly stopped, hurrying back over to his seat beside Carson and looking around at everyone as the song ended.

"He's done, Satan," Carson snapped. "You've had your fun, so let's move on, please."

"Looks like I'm not the only one who had fun," Santana said, casting a pointed glance over at Blaine, who flushed and stood up with his hands clasped awkwardly over the front of his pants.

"Yeah...um...I...I'm gonna go use the restroom," he said, hurrying out of the room. Carson glowered after him. _I fucking bet he has to go "use" the restroom. He's going in there to fucking jack off over Kurt, and I swear to god I should follow him in there and punch him right in the fucking face._

"Ok, Britt, your turn to challenge someone," Santana said, snapping Carson out of his murderous thoughts about Blaine.

"Ok! Uuuum...Carson," said Brittany. "Truth or dare."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Dare," he said, figuring that, since it was Brittany, he would probably be dared to do something stupid, like act like a unicorn.

"Ok, I want you to give Kurt sweet twin kisses like you did at the other parties," said Brittany. "It was super hot, and I wanna see it again."

Carson gulped, his heart jumping into his throat. He hadn't expected that from Brittany. Santana, yes, but not Brittany, although now that he thought about it, Santana had probably put her up to it. Santana herself was grinning evilly beside Brittany.

"Go on, Hummel number two. You heard the woman. Go rock Kurt's world," she said. The other kids looked on with interest. Carson heard Tina whisper "It really _was _super hot last time" to Mike, and Rachel looked really confused and drunkenly said something, although fuck if Carson could figure out what it was. All he was concentrating on was trying not to faint as he fixed Santana with a withering stare.

"Challenge accepted," he said. He took a deep breath and turned to Kurt, searching his face for any signs of uneasiness. He didn't want Kurt to do anything else tonight that made him uncomfortable, but Kurt looked like he was anticipating the kiss, and his lips looked really plump and red and inviting, so Carson went for it. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Kurt's, savoring the pillowy softness of them, and the way they tasted like a mixture of strawberry lip balm and whatever Kurt had been drinking. It was an odd combination, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Mmm," Kurt sighed against his lips, and Carson's heartbeat quickened to an even faster pace as he felt Kurt's hands coming up to rest on either side of his face. The next thing he knew, Kurt was deepening the kiss, sucking eagerly on Carson's bottom lip, and _oh_, fuck, Carson could really get used to that, and then he gasped because Kurt was _climbing into his lap_. Kurt was drunk, though, and didn't have the finest handle on his movements, so Carson just let instinct take over and grabbed Kurt around the waist, settling him until Kurt was kneeling between Carson's knees. Carson briefly realized that this probably wasn't going to turn out well when he realized that their crotches were practically touching, and that.._oh god_...they were both getting hard, but then Kurt moaned into his mouth and he decided he didn't care that he was making out with his brother, with a half hard dick, in front of a room full of his classmates. Thank god for alcohol.

"This is even hotter than last time," he heard Brittany mutter, her voice sounding far away as Kurt continued kissing him hungrily. He definitely wasn't expecting the press of Kurt's tongue against his lips, demanding entrance into his mouth, but there it was, and Carson eagerly granted it permission, parting his lips and letting Kurt's tongue slide against his own. And then he felt Kurt grind his crotch into him ever so slightly, and his brain short circuited.

_Oh fuck, this is what dying feels like_, he thought blissfully, his hands clutching at Kurt's back and unconsciously working their way down. Kurt's lips left his, and Carson only had a few seconds of regret before he felt them on his jawline, peppering small kisses there before heading down to his neck, where Kurt began to suck eagerly.

_Oh god oh god oh god_, thought Carson, letting out a moan as his hands finally reached Kurt's ass and settled there, causing Kurt to let out a moan of his own.

"What the hell?" he heard someone ask.

"Shut up, Preppy, Britt dared them to kiss and rules is rules. Let them continue for a few minutes," said Santana. Carson's eyes flew open and saw Blaine standing there looking extremely confused and also...angry? Jealous? Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant.

"Ooookay, Kurt, this is weird. You can stop now," said Blaine, settling himself back on the couch and pulling at Kurt's arm until Kurt fell out of Carson's lap, toppling backwards onto Blaine. Carson glared at Blaine and Blaine glared right back at him.

_Fuck you_, thought Carson, kind of hoping that Blaine noticed that Kurt was still half hard, and not for his hobbit ass. _You ruin everything._


	17. Chapter 17

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whoa, what's this magic? An update in less than a week? Why yes, yes it is. Because we love you, our readers, more than Carson loves making out with Kurt at Santana's drunken parties. Also, please be advised that this chapter contains many SBL spoilers! **

**Ok, let's read.**

Kurt woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, curled in a ball up against Carson with his head on his chest and Carson's arms wrapped tightly around him, wondering at first why he felt so uncomfortable and stiff, until he realized that he had been passed out on Santana's living room floor. His fellow glee club members and cast mates were scattered around him, none of them awake yet. He yawned and tried to stretch out a little, only then registering the solid weight against his back. Blaine was pressed up against him and had been using his ass for a pillow. Kurt was literally caught in the middle between the two boys

_Carson's not going to like that_, thought Kurt sleepily, gently shaking his lower body until Blaine slid off of him, his head landing on the floor with a soft thunk. Blaine wrinkled his nose and snuffled in his sleep, but didn't wake up. Kurt glanced up at Carson and smiled as the memories from the previous night began to creep back into his brain, bit by bit. He remembered Santana daring him to give Blaine a lap dance, which was just awkward and uncomfortable as hell for Kurt, especially when he knew Carson was watching.

He recalled Brittany daring Carson to kiss him, and he had secretly been thankful that Blaine wasn't in the room when she did, because he wasn't sure if he would have felt comfortable kissing Carson this time with him there to see. And he _had _wanted Carson to kiss him. The anticipation was so strong it had overwhelmed him, actually, but that was nothing compared to the absolute army of butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in his stomach when Carson's lips finally touched his. That was the spark, the thing that he still wasn't feeling whenever he kissed Blaine, even though he desperately wanted to, and he definitely still had feelings for him. But with Carson, though...wow. Kurt hadn't been able to stop himself from deepening the kiss. Or from taking it over, practically climbing on Carson and hungrily devouring his lips.

And then Blaine had come back and pulled Kurt away, and Kurt had instantly felt like the world's most horrible person. What had he been thinking, kissing Carson like that? Not only was that unfair to Blaine, it was unfair to Carson. Kurt often felt like he was being unfair to Carson, actually, especially since Blaine had decided to transfer. He was beginning to wonder if it had really been worth it to have his boyfriend at the same school if it meant a constant air of tension when the three of them were together.

He wondered sometimes how much different life would be for him now if he had gone through with his plan to confess his feelings to Carson last year, and if he had been correct in thinking that Carson felt the same way. Sure, they would have had to be extremely discreet, and that would have come with its own set of tensions, but it would have been better than constantly feeling torn between two people he cared deeply for.

And then he remembered how much bullying and shaming they both would experience if word got out about him and Carson being in a relationship, not to mention the possible legal ramifications for their family, and he knew he couldn't put Carson through that. He was glad that he was sparing his twin from that kind of hell.

But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. Or that Kurt didn't feel forever stuck between a rock and a hard place, wanting so badly to keep both his boyfriend and his brother happy while having a little happiness for himself, and feeling like he was failing at both.

_I hate feelings_, he thought, burrowing in closer to Carson and breathing in his comforting scent. _Feelings are confusing and stupid, and I wish I didn't have them._

* * *

By the end of September, Carson had resigned himself to a disappointing and frustrating senior year, mentally chastising himself for ever thinking that he could have even a halfway decent one. His classes were full of morons. Algebra 2 sucked. His journalism students were still useless lumps. So were the idiots on the student council. Still nobody had joined the Writers' Club. Glee was...well...glee. And he was still being subjected to Douchy, Snow White's missing, bowtie loving eighth dwarf, on a daily basis. Not to mention that he still had yet to hear anything back from Northwestern. He'd even put his rage at Ms. Pillsbury over the _West Side Story_ audition incident aside long enough to ask her to look into it, but so far she had no news for him either.

And he wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that the _most _disappointing thing in his life wasn't actually any of those things, but that the hickey Kurt had left on his neck at Santana's party had pretty much faded away to nothing.

He did have Kurt's campaign to focus on now that he was in charge of managing it, so that was a bright spot in his school days, at least. His first order of business had been to try to convince Kurt to ditch the garish pink campaign posters that Brittany had designed which featured Kurt's giant head sporting a unicorn horn, but Kurt had insisted on keeping them.

"I decided I liked them," he'd explained when Carson asked why he didn't use the sexy poster he'd found in their room which featured Kurt looking like James Bond and giving the camera a smoldering look. "Like I told Brittany, I should embrace my unicorn-ness."

So Carson had let him keep the posters (but he'd also rolled up the sexy James Bond poster for safekeeping and put it on his side of the closet. He figured he could take it with him to college next year, which was _not_ creepy, ok?) He busied himself with passing out "Vote For Kurt" buttons in the halls whenever he had the opportunity (and also wrangling Nicholas and Scott into helping, since he was already blackmailing them anyway, so he thought he may as well get some free labor out of them while he was at it). He had no doubt that Kurt could easily win this election. Brittany was an idiot that nobody would ever _seriously_ vote for, no matter how many short leather skirts she wore during pep rallies, and, well...who the fuck was going to vote for Rachel? Nobody liked Rachel. Not even Finn was sure he was going to vote for her, which amused Carson greatly.

He also was trying to help Kurt sell ad space in the _West Side Story_ programs, which was necessary since their funding had been cut thanks to Coach Sylvester. Not because he particularly cared about the play, but because it was so important to Kurt.

"You're too nice for your own good," he'd said to Kurt when his twin came home one afternoon from talking to their dad about buying ad space. "You're barely even in this play and you're working your ass off to save it. I really admire you."

"Well, I'd hate to see it not go on," Kurt had replied, flopping down on the couch beside Carson, resting his head on his shoulder and watching as Carson worked on an article on his laptop. "Rachel needs it for NYADA, and it's Blaine's first big role in a play. They'd both be really disappointed if the musical was cancelled."

Carson wrapped an arm around him and kissed his hair. "Like I said. Too nice for your own good."

With the help of their father, who convinced the owners of every funeral parlor in Lima to donate the rest of the money, the play was saved and was scheduled to go on as planned. Which Carson was grateful for if for no other reason than that he hated asking people to buy those damn ads.

"Ok, everyone, I have some very exciting news," said Mr. Schue one afternoon after writing his requisite phrase of the day on the whiteboard. "Due to the collective spirit of this club, particularly the hard ad sales work of Kurt and Carson, and the generosity of the entire Hummel/Hudson household, it is my pleasure to announce that we have raised the money to do _West Side Story_ this year!"

Everyone looked over at the twins and broke out into a round of applause. Kurt blushed and squeezed Carson's hand, and Carson even managed to half-smile at the club.

"It was mostly Kurt's work," he said, giving Kurt a pat on the shoulder. He saw Santana raise an eyebrow and smirk at him from where she sat on the floor across the room.

"Good job, everyone," said Mr. Schue. "Blaine," he continued, pointing his pen at him, "You actually had something you'd like to say, right?"

_Of course he does_, thought Carson, rolling his eyes. _The attention has been off of him for more than five seconds, and we just can't have that, can we?_

"Yes, I did," said Blaine, who, for once wasn't sitting anywhere near Kurt and Carson. It was a refreshing change.

"Come on up," said Mr. Schue. Blaine eagerly got up from his seat and stood to face the club. Carson looked him up and down and somehow managed to refrain from making a _Gilligan's Island_ joke about his outfit out loud, even though it was very difficult.

"I just wanted to acknowledge that we've all had a really rough week, what with Mercedes leaving," said Blaine. "So I prepared a little something to show what Mr. Schue just said. That the magic is still here."

"I hate to argue with you, Gilligan," said Carson (Ok, maybe he wasn't strong enough after all to not make jokes about Blaine's clothes), "but all Mr. Schue just said was that Kurt and I, and our dad, saved your stupid play from certain death. There was nothing said about magic."

"_Anyway_," said Blaine, narrowing his eyes at Carson before addressing the rest of the club, "This is to remind us of what glee is all about, which is just fun." He gave a cocky little wink to the band, who started playing some annoying pop piece of crap, and Blaine started singing what Carson eventually recognized as Katy Perry's "Last Friday Night." Everyone except Finn and Kurt (and Carson, obviously) got up and started dancing like idiots, and Carson was amused to see that Kurt seemed perfectly content to just sit in his seat rather than take part in his boyfriend's showboating. _That's my boy_, he thought happily. It did really irritate him to see Blaine looking at Kurt while he sang about threesomes, though. _Ugh, just die already._

Kurt chose that moment to get up and start dancing with Blaine, much to Carson's disappointment. He was so distracted watching them that he almost didn't notice that Santana had stalked over to the choir room chairs during the song until he felt her plop down right next to him in Kurt's vacant seat.

"I agree with you," she said without preamble, an angry scowl on her face. "Boy's a showoff."

"That he is," agreed Carson, crossing his arms and glaring at Blaine, who was holding Kurt by the hands and twirling him around. "I curse the day he ever came to this school."

"I know," she said, reaching out one hand and giving him an extremely brief, awkward pat on the shoulder. "Just say the word and I will organize another drunken party for you any time." Carson felt himself blushing. _Damn it, Santana. _Kurt looked over at them then and frowned as the song mercifully came to an end.

"You guys," said Rachel excitedly, sitting back down in her seat, "That song is amazing! I think we should do it for Sectionals!"

"Are you high?" asked Carson as Santana scoffed next to him.

"So, no concerns about showcasing any other voices this year at the competition?" Santana asked irritably, getting up from her seat and walking toward Mr. Schue and Blaine. Kurt took the seat she had left and grabbed onto Carson's arm, clinging to it so tightly that Carson almost lost blood circulation. Not that he minded. Not in the least.

"Oh, come on, Santana, you were featured last year at Sectionals," said Mr. Schue.

"Yeah, I know. And we won," said Santana. "Oh, no, you know what? I get it. Since Mercedes is gone this year, it's going to be the Blaine and Rachel show. Yay!" she said mockingly as Blaine rolled his eyes.

_What's the matter, hobbit? Can't take the heat?_ thought Carson, still enjoying Kurt's tight grip on his arm.

"You all know it's true," continued Santana. "Noted. Good to know," she said, giving Blaine a sarcastic pat on the arm before storming out of the choir room.

"Thank you, Santana," muttered Mr. Schue.

"I think that was beautiful," said Carson. "Absolutely spot-on. Team Santana!" Blaine glared at him. Kurt's grip got tighter.

_Suck it, hobbit. She was right and you know it._

* * *

Kurt lay on his stomach across Blaine's bed, watching with his thumbs in his mouth as his boyfriend danced around to some weird song he'd never heard of across the room. Blaine had removed his school cardigan and bowtie and was dancing in just his pants and a plain white T-shirt, and Kurt, even distracted as he was at the moment with his thoughts, was definitely enjoying the view. Not as much as he usually enjoyed the view of Carson in T-shirts, but still. It was nice.

"God, Roxy music makes me want to build a time machine just so I can go back to the '70s and give Bryan Ferry a high five," Blaine was saying, but Kurt wasn't really listening. He was thinking back to earlier that afternoon, when he and Blaine had gone to the Dairy Queen together for ice cream to celebrate the fact that the opening of _West Side Story_ was now only days away and they had mostly survived the long rehearsal process. The college-aged guy behind the counter, whose nametag identified him as Daniel, wouldn't stop staring at Blaine as they placed their orders. That much Kurt was used to. People of both genders stared at Blaine all the time when they were out, so that wasn't new. What was new was the flirting.

"Here you go, cutie," Daniel had said with a wink as he handed Blaine his ice cream. "You come here often?"

"Oh...well...no," answered Blaine, his face flushing. Kurt reached for his own ice cream, since Daniel obviously wasn't planning on handing it over.

"Right, right. I'd remember a face like that," said Daniel. Blaine had just laughed, his face getting redder.

"Thanks. You're, um...you're cute too," he'd said, seemingly forgetting that Kurt was standing right there.

"Thanks, hon. You enjoy that ice cream, now."

"He will," Kurt had interjected then, grabbing Blaine by the arm and leading him over to a table. The incident had bothered him for the rest of the afternoon. He'd never had to deal with anyone blatantly flirting with Blaine like that before since they started dating, and he was kind of upset that Blaine had seemed to enjoy it. Or, at the very least, it hadn't bothered Blaine enough for him to at least acknowledge that Kurt was his boyfriend and was standing right there. He could only imagine what Carson would have said if he'd been there.

"Do you think I'm boring?" Kurt blurted out from the bed.

"Are you crazy?" Blaine asked with a laugh, not even pausing in his dancing. "You're the single most interesting kid in all of Ohio!"

_Oh. Well. That's...I mean, just in Ohio, or...?_

_"_I mean, like...sexually," Kurt clarified, sitting up. It had been on his mind since they'd left the ice cream shop, and he hadn't actually meant to bring it up to Blaine, but here it was spilling out of his mouth, so he might as well continue. "We are playing it very safe by not granting our hands visas to travel south of the equator." _Except for when you're drunk, obviously, since you did try to feel me up at Santana's party, but...I mean, other than that, you only really seem interested in leaving really angry, obvious hickeys on my neck and it's kind of starting to make me feel like maybe you DO think I'm boring. Carson shows more sexual interest in me than you do sometimes..._Well, he couldn't say all of THAT.

"I thought that's what we wanted," said Blaine.

"It is," agreed Kurt. "I'm just wondering, have you ever had the urge just to rip off each other's clothes and get dirty?"

"Uh, yeah, but that's why they invented masturbation," said Blaine matter of factly. Kurt felt his whole body heating up at the realization that Blaine had just admitted to masturbating to thoughts of _him_. He was torn between being extremely turned on and extremely glad that Carson wasn't present for this conversation, because he had the feeling Blaine wouldn't have anything to masturbate with anymore if Carson had heard that.

_Ok, maybe he doesn't think I'm THAT boring._

"It's so hot in this room," he said, pulling at his clothes. "Could we...could we open up a window?"

"Hey, I'm serious," said Blaine, crossing over to climb onto the bed beside Kurt. "We're young, we're in high school. Yeah, we have urges, but whatever we do, I want to make sure that you're comfortable, so _I_ can be comfortable."

Kurt thought about this. Blaine did have a point. Kurt wasn't quite sure he would be comfortable yet exploring the whole sex thing with him. He wasn't sure he would ever be fully comfortable at all until he could stop his thoughts from traveling straight to Carson every time he seriously thought about having sex. In a way, he supposed, Blaine was unwittingly protecting him from himself. _There's those damn confusing feelings again._

"And besides," Blaine continued, "tearing off all your clothes is sort of a tall order."

"Because of the layers?" asked Kurt, more than familiar with Blaine's feelings on his layers. He'd caught Blaine rolling his eyes and scoffing at his outfits on more than one occasion when he figured Blaine thought he wasn't looking.

"Because of the layers," agreed Blaine, leaning in for a kiss. "They're adorable, but you're so lucky you found me. I don't think anyone else would ever put up with them."

* * *

Carson walked down the hallway, feeling like a determined man on a mission. It had been an eventful afternoon, to be sure. It had started out as all his afternoons usually did, with his journalism team sitting there like useless plants while he tried to get anything even remotely resembling effort out of them. He'd been seriously considering drowning them when he'd been called into Ms. Pillsbury's office after class, where she informed him that she had heard back from Northwestern. He'd almost had a heart attack right then, because she'd sounded so solemn when she'd said it, and he was worried for a minute that he hadn't gotten in. He'd been miserably envisioning his certain future writing for the Lima pennysaver when she had informed him that she didn't know whether he'd been accepted or denied. However, if he wanted to have any prayer of being admitted, he'd have to submit something other than his work from the _Muckraker_.

"Like what?" he'd asked eagerly.

"Like a novel, or a book of poems..." Ms. Pillsbury answered.

"But I'm not a novelist and I'm not a poet," Carson protested in a panic, not letting her finish. "I'm a journalist!"

"Yes, Carson, I know," said Ms. Pillsbury. "You could also submit a literary magazine."

Carson stopped panicking and looked at her curiously. "A literary magazine?"

Ms. Pillsbury nodded. "Since it's not nearly as common as a high school newspaper, it would impress Northwestern a lot more," she said, giving him a small smile. "And, you know, it would show that you can inspire other people to write while writing yourself."

"So, in other words, I would have to actually get people to agree to write for this magazine?" asked Carson.

"Yep," said Ms. Pillsbury. "And you'd need Figgins to approve you."

_Fuuuuuuuck._

Never one to back down from a challenge, Carson had marched directly into Figgins' office right then and there to ask for permission to start the magazine. Surprisingly, he'd gotten it pretty easily, probably because Figgins didn't think Carson could come up with the funding for it. Carson himself wasn't even sure how he would do that, but that was just details. He'd find the money somehow. The important thing was that he'd been granted permission to hold an assembly the following day to announce the magazine and see if anyone was interested in writing for it.

And now he was all set to go home and start practicing his assembly speech so that he wouldn't make a complete idiot of himself. He just needed to get his books first. Fucking homework.

He was just stuffing his dreaded Algebra 2 book in his bag when a soft pair of hands settled over his eyes.

"Guess who!" said his favorite voice in the world. Carson smiled.

"What are you doing here, Kurtsie?" he asked happily, closing his bag and turning around to face Kurt. "Don't you usually go get coffee with the hobbit after school?"

"Blaine's going to Dalton this afternoon to invite the Warblers to _West Side Story_, so I have nowhere to be," answered Kurt, shifting his feet. "I thought we could hang out, just the two of us, like...you know, like we used to do. Unless you're busy..."

"Oh, Kurtsie, no," said Carson quickly, placing his arm around Kurt and squeezing him close. "I'm never too busy to spend time with you, baby."

Kurt smiled. "Good," he said.

They left Carson's car at school and took the SUV home, Carson filling Kurt in on the literary magazine on the way.

"How are you planning to get people to write for that?" asked Kurt.

"Your guess is as good as mine," replied Carson. "I'm holding that assembly, but I really don't know how I'm going to be able to convince anyone to submit anything. I can barely get my journalism team to pretend to give a shit about the _Muckraker_. Not to mention the money."

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'll write something for it," he said, reaching over to pat Carson's hand. "And maybe I can ask Blaine to-"

"Ugh, no, _don't _ask Beetlejuice," said Carson quickly. "The last thing I want is to owe him a fucking thing."

Kurt smiled. "If you say so."

"I say so."

"As for the money, I can probably help you out there," said Kurt. "How much do you need?"

"Kurt, I can't-" Carson began.

"Carson. How much?" Kurt repeated.

Carson sighed. "$300."

Kurt nodded. "Ok. I have slightly more than that in my savings account, so you can borrow it."

Carson gaped at him, speechless. "Kurt, I..."

Kurt reached for his hand again and rubbed his thumb across Carson's knuckles. "Carsey, Northwestern is your dream, and if this literary magazine is going to help you get there, then I want to help you. So let me help you. Ok?"

"It's a lot of money, Kurt."

Kurt shrugged. "So what? I love you more than anything else in this world, Carson. I know that...that I might not show it much sometimes, but I do. And I would never forgive myself if I didn't do everything in my power to help you achieve your dreams. Because I know without a doubt that you wouldn't even hesitate to do the same for me."

Carson smiled at him, trying not to cry as Kurt pulled into the driveway of their house and stopped the engine. "I love you, Kurtsie."

Kurt turned and pulled him into a tight hug. "I love you, too."

* * *

Kurt tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, trying to be optimistic. He was on his way to the Lima Bean to meet Blaine, having just come from Carson's special assembly. His twin's reception had been less than warm, since nobody had seemed overly enthusiastic to be there. Then again, Carson hadn't exactly been tactful when addressing the school, either.

"Hello, future farmers and inmates," he'd said chipperly into the microphone when he got up on the gym's stage. "I'm Carson Hummel from the _McKinley High Muckraker_, and I'm here with some very exciting news! This year, for the first time ever, McKinley High will release its first literary magazine!" He emphasized his words with a round of applause. Kurt clapped, and so did the girl with the video camera who was the only other member of Carson's writing club, but nobody else did, although Santana looked like she wanted to.

"Now," continued Carson, "I know most of you can't read, let alone write, but for all the secret writers out there, please submit any original work into the box outside the journalism classroom and it will be published. Poems...essays...short stories...hit lists. Anything."

Deafening silence greeted this announcement. Kurt looked around awkwardly and then caught Carson's eye, giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

"Thank you," said Carson into the mic. "God bless."

Kurt had tried to reassure him afterwards that he'd done fine. "They'll be lining up to fill that box with submissions all day tomorrow," he said. "I have faith."

Carson smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "I know you do, Kurtsie. I just wish I did."

Blaine had not attended the assembly, skipping out of school early to go run some mysterious errand. Come to think of it, he had been acting kind of strange all day. He'd asked Kurt that morning if he ever felt like being adventurous while he was still young (where had _that_ come from?) and had been compulsively checking his phone constantly every time Kurt saw him for the rest of the day. Kurt hoped their usual after school coffee date would calm him down a bit. He had forgotten to text Blaine to let him know he was coming, but he figured Blaine would be waiting there anyway.

Kurt pushed open the doors of the Lima Bean and looked around for his boyfriend, finally spotting him at a table halfway across the shop. And he wasn't alone. There was a strange guy in a Dalton uniform sitting across from him whom Kurt had never seen before. An uneasy feeling settled in Kurt's stomach.

"I just never want to mess my thing up with him in any way," Blaine was saying as Kurt approached the table. "He's really great."

"Who's really great?" Kurt asked, pasting a huge smile on his face as he came up behind Blaine.

"You!" answered Blaine with a nervous chuckle. "We were just talking about you. Sebastian, this is Kurt. My boyfriend. Who I was just-"

"Got it," said the mystery guy- Sebastian- sitting across from Blaine. He had a smirky grin on his face that Kurt instantly decided he disliked.

Kurt stuck his hand out to Sebastian. "Pleasure," he said as politely as he could, even though he knew it came out sounding bitchy. "And how do we know Sebastian?" he asked, turning to Blaine.

"We met at Dalton," Sebastian answered for him. "Was dying to meet Blaine," he continued, flashing his grin across the table at Blaine, who hung his head and blushed. "Those Warblers just won't shut up about him. Didn't think he could live up to the hype, but as it turns out..."

_Oh my god, is this bitch for real?_ thought Kurt. He didn't know how to feel right now. Blaine had obviously planned on meeting this guy. That was why he had skipped out early and not gone with Kurt to the assembly. The guy who, by the way, was sitting there shamelessly flirting with Blaine right in front of Kurt. And Blaine was clearly enjoying it.

"Yes, he's even more impressive in the flesh," said Kurt, sitting down beside Blaine and possessively taking hold of his arm in the way he usually only did to Carson after he saw him interacting with Santana.

"Hey, what are you guys doing tomorrow night?" asked Sebastian.

_Nothing that involves YOU_, thought Kurt.

"Well," he answered, "we're rehearsing for the school musical, and then at bedtime we do a rigorous skin sloughing regimen over the phone together." That was true, although they didn't do it _every_ night. Kurt mostly did it only when Carson was otherwise occupied and wasn't around to witness it.

Sebastian gave them a weird look. "And as sexy as that sounds, what do you say we shake things up? I get you guys a couple of fake IDs and we head over to Scandals in West Lima."

"Scandals?" said Blaine. "That...that's the gay bar."

_A gay bar? I can't do that, Carson would have a heart attack._

"The last time I was there, I met the man of my dreams on the dance floor," said Sebastian.

"That's so sweet," answered Kurt sarcastically. "And are you two still together?"

"Sadly, no. We broke up about twenty minutes after we met," replied Sebastian suggestively. "Come on, guys. Live a little."

"We would love to, Sebastian," said Blaine. "Thank you for the offer, that's very nice of you, but...that...that just isn't our kind of thing," he said, looking over at Kurt. Kurt could tell he didn't really mean what he said. The look on Blaine's face made it obvious that he _did_ want to check out Scandals, and that Kurt was holding him back. He thought back to the other day at the ice cream store, and then their conversation in Blaine's room.

_He DOES think I'm boring_, thought Kurt. _If we don't go to that stupid bar, he might leave me for this douche. _

"Let's do it," he said before he could stop himself. He knew it was probably a bad idea and that if Carson found out he would never hear the end of it, but at the moment he couldn't really see beyond the threat of losing his first boyfriend to a more experienced, obviously more _exciting_ prospect, and he really didn't want that to happen.

"What?" asked Blaine with an excited grin.

"Yeah," said Kurt. "We have a whole bunch of firsts to start crossing off our list. We're _in_," he said, directing that last part at Sebastian.

_God, PLEASE don't let Carson find out about this. Please._

He came home that night, exhausted and irritated, to find Carson curled up on the bed with his laptop, his glasses perched charmingly on his nose as he ran his finger over the touchpad.

"Hey," said Kurt, dropping his bag on the bedroom couch and flopping down beside him on the bed. Carson reached one hand out to rub gently at Kurt's back.

"Hey," he said. "Rough day?"

Kurt nodded. "You could say that."

"Is Willow giving you trouble? Because just say the word and I will wrap his bowtie around his neck until he chokes."

Kurt giggled in spite of himself. "No, Carson, that won't be necessary."

"But you laughed!" protested Carson.

"Well, you're funny," replied Kurt cheekily.

Carson smiled. "Ok. But speaking of Bartholomew, I found all this stuff about self-defense on the internet, and I think you should read it."

Kurt looked at him, confused. "_Why?_"

Carson looked at him over the rim of his glasses. "Because of what I saw at Santana's party. Blythe is a pushy son of a bitch who doesn't know how to take no for an answer, and you should be prepared if it happens again."

Kurt shook his head. "Carson, I love you, but you're nuts. Does Blaine really look like a violent person to you?"

Carson nodded. "All I know, Kurt, is that I saw him trying to grope you in that dining room, and not listening when you said no. He was being an asshole and not respecting your boundaries. And truth be told, if I'd not been drunk off my ass, I would have killed him right then and there."

"But self-defense? Really?"

"_Yes_, Kurt. Come on. Think about it. Even if Baldwin doesn't try for another unwanted grope-fest, you're going to be in New York next year by yourself, and it can't hurt for you to know a few basics of how to defend yourself. And I'll sleep better at night, so please? Just check your email when you get a chance and read it?" asked Carson, sticking out his bottom lip in an imitation of Kurt's pout.

Kurt smiled at him. "Again, that only works when I do it," he said, reaching out to ruffle Carson's hair. "Ok, ok. I'll read it. Just not right now. I'm exhausted and I haven't even showered yet or done my face." _Not to mention I have to plan what the hell I'm supposed to wear to a gay bar tomorrow_.

"Thank you," said Carson, kissing him on the cheek. "Now run along and make yourself beautiful. I'll wait for you right here."

Kurt snorted. "Smartass."

Carson grinned. "But I'm _your_ smartass, and you love me, right?"

Kurt sighed. "Right."

He wondered what Carson would say if he knew Kurt was planning to lie about his age the next night in order to get into a bar that he was only going to because he felt insecure about his relationship with Blaine due to the fact that Blaine was obviously making coffee dates with other guys behind Kurt's back.

He decided he was better off not knowing the answer to that.

* * *

Carson went through the next day unable to concentrate much on his classes. He was much too busy thinking about the submission box he had left outside the journalism classroom, just waiting for people to fill it with writing. Any kind of writing. Carson wasn't going to be picky. He just desperately needed stuff to fill the literary magazine with, and fast. He had a deadline to meet if he was going to be considered early for Northwestern. He already had Kurt's submission stuck safely into his 3-ring binder, an essay titled "What Fashion Means To Me, by Kurt Hummel." It was neatly handwritten on two pieces of Kurt's peach scented stationary, and there was a slight lip print in the corner of the first page that smelled an awful lot like Kurt's lip balm. He had obviously literally sealed it with a kiss. Carson's heart had almost burst with love right there in the hallway when Kurt had given it to him the day before, right before the assembly. After he typed it up, he planned to hold on to the two handwritten pages for as long as that lip print remained. And even after.

Now, if only he could get about a dozen or so more submissions, he'd be golden.

Obviously, he still had yet to learn his lesson about getting his hopes up, because when he carried the (heavy and obviously full) submission box into the journalism classroom so that he and Malerie could look through the submissions, they discovered that it was not filled with writing at all. It was filled with garbage.

"Typical," Carson groaned, straddling the chair next to Malerie's and burying his face in his arms. "I can't even run a school newspaper. I don't know why I thought I could start a literary magazine." He lifted his head up and absentmindedly rooted through the trash in the box. His eye caught a familiar looking cup, which he fished out. It was a Lima Bean cup, and what was more, Carson immediately knew exactly who had put it in there, because "_Blaine-Medium drip_" was written hastily on the side of the cup with a Sharpie.

_That fucking asshole_, he thought, glaring down at the cup. _I'm showing this to Kurt, I swear to fuck_. He felt Malerie's hand patting his leg, obviously trying to be comforting, but he really wasn't in the mood for comfort right now.

"Personal space, Malerie," he mumbled, moving his leg out of her reach.

"Ok. Don't be too hard on yourself," said Malerie. "If you can get Nicholas Forbes and Scott Thomas to join the _Muckraker, _you can do anything."

"I'm blackmailing them," he informed her, discouraged. "I caught them playing Lewis and Clark in the boys' bathroom. Don't ask."

"Oh," said Malerie as Carson's words slowly sunk in. "There seems to be a lot of that going around. I caught Coach Walker and Claire Mathews bonking each other in the boys' locker room."

Carson sat up in his chair, looking at her incredulously.

"I just go in there to think sometimes," said Malerie in explanation.

"I thought she was dating _Justin_ Walker," Carson said.

"That must be awkward," said Malerie.

"Santana would have a field day with this information," Carson mused. "I'll have to remember that next time I need a favor from her. If I ever do."

"Too bad _they _aren't writers," said Malerie. "If they were in the literary magazine, everyone would want to be in it. It would sell out for sure."

Carson looked at her, trying to figure out if she was just making a statement or if she was trying to hint at something.

"Just makes you think, though," she continued. "Everyone has something to hide. Even Claire Mathews." She looked down at Carson's hand and pointed to the coffee cup that he was still holding. "Maybe even that guy you don't like. I forgot his name."

"Bevis," said Carson, gazing down at the cup thoughtfully, a seed of an idea starting to form. Maybe Malerie was right. There had to be _something_ that Blaine wouldn't want people finding out about, especially Kurt. Maybe Carson could find out what that was and use it to make Blaine his bitch, as it were. He could get the hobbit to write for the magazine, and he wouldn't owe him a fucking thing in return. He liked this idea. He liked it a lot.

* * *

Scandals, Kurt decided, as he helped a very drunk Blaine toward the bar's exit, had not been one of his better decisions. In fact, it had been almost a complete disaster every step of the way. First of all, he'd had a hell of a time sneaking his plans past Carson when he was getting dressed for the evening. Carson had come into the bedroom eating from a bag of Doritos just as Kurt was putting the finishing touches on his outfit.

"You're dressing up," Carson said through a mouthful of chips.

"Yeah," said Kurt, trying to sound nonchalant. "Blaine and I are...going out."

"Where?"

"I don't know, just out."

"It's a school night," said Carson.

"So what?" asked Kurt, sounding a little more irritated and snappy than he'd actually intended. "God, Carson, you're not my dad, ok?" He instantly regretted it when he saw the surprised and slightly hurt look on Carson's face.

"Fine," said Carson, flopping down on the bed and reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. "Whatever. Excuse me for worrying. Have fun." He opened his laptop and focused on the screen.

Kurt sighed. "Carson," he said in a gentler tone, sitting beside Carson on the bed. "Carsey, hey...look at me. I'm sorry," he said, wrapping his arms around Carson's neck, hugging him. "I didn't mean to snap, I just...it's been a long day."

Carson brought his arms around Kurt's waist, hugging him back. "It's ok, Kurtsie. I just worry every time you go out with Bennigan. You know how I am."

"I know," said Kurt. "You worry entirely too much." _Except maybe this time you kind of have a point in worrying, since I AM about to go to a bar_.

"I'll try to be back early," he said, kissing Carson on the cheek. "Don't feel like you have to wait up for me."

"You know I usually do," replied Carson, squeezing Kurt's hand before Kurt got up from the bed and checked his hair one final time in the mirror. "Come home in one piece, or I'll kick Bugsy's ass."

Kurt smiled. "I _will_, Carson. Calm down."

The bar itself turned out to be seedy as hell, and Kurt was more than a little out of his element there, especially since he wasn't even drinking and he spent half the night sitting at the bar watching Blaine dance with Sebastian. After a brief talk with Karofsky, of all people, who was the absolute last person Kurt had ever expected to see there, he'd finally had enough and marched out onto the dance floor, wedging himself between his boyfriend and Sebastian so that the other boy had no room for doubt that Kurt Hummel didn't share.

Now he was just trying to get Blaine out to the car in one piece so he could take him home and then go home himself. It was way later than he'd anticipated when they finally left the bar, and he was sure Carson was probably starting to worry.

"It's the best night of my life," said Blaine happily as Kurt helped him across the parking lot. "I wanna live here. I wanna live here, and I just wanna make art and help people."

Kurt laughed. "You could certainly help people make fires with your breath," he said.

"Hey, come on, I only had one beer," Blaine protested. Kurt seriously doubted this. Blaine was about as drunk as he'd been at Santana's party, and he'd had way more than one drink then. At least this time there hadn't been any illicit groping, though.

"Sure you did," said Kurt as they reached the car. He opened the door to the backseat.

"Hey, kiss me," Blaine said, grabbing Kurt and trying to bring their faces close. _Damn it, Blaine, not this again._

"Oh, no no no," protested Kurt, pushing him away. "Come on, you're riding in the back."

"Kiss me, come on!" Blaine whined, pressing himself closer and resting his lips anywhere he could reach, despite Kurt's objections.

"Come on. Lay down," Kurt said, trying to at least get Blaine into the car. Maybe he'd quit being so handsy once he wasn't standing. "Less likely to throw up that way." To his relief, Blaine obeyed, letting Kurt lightly push him into place. Now if he could just get Blaine home without incident, he could-

"Whoa..whoa...wait!" he exclaimed as Blaine grabbed his hands and pulled him on top of him in the backseat. Kurt's sense of balance was thrown completely off-kilter as Blaine's hands started roaming over him. He felt Blaine's lips on his face and had a very uneasy feeling about where this was going.

"Oh..alright...Blaine..." Kurt babbled, trying to free himself from Blaine's grip but only managing to lift himself a little. "Alright...hands...cold hands!" he squeaked.

"Kurt, let's just do it," Blaine murmured, grabbing Kurt's hands tightly so he couldn't get out of the car. "I want you. I want you so bad," he said, his hands on Kurt's neck.

"No, Blaine..no..." Kurt protested as Blaine pulled him back down. "No...Stop it!" he pleaded, squirming in a panic as Blaine's hands gripped him on his upper arms, so hard it hurt a little.

_God, Carson, I am so sorry I snapped at you tonight. Please, I'm begging you, just...can you appear by some twin magic or something and come help me? Please? _

Carson didn't appear, of course. Blaine's hands continued roaming everywhere Kurt didn't want them right now.

"I know you wanted to do it in a field of lilacs with Sting playing in the background and all that, but who cares where we are? It's all about us, right?" Blaine babbled, still trying to prevent Kurt from leaving.

_No. No, no, no, I don't want this, no_. He felt a sick panic in his gut that he hadn't felt since the day Karofsky had kissed him in the locker room, and he didn't want to be feeling it, because this was Blaine. It was _Blaine_, and Blaine was his boyfriend, and sweet and harmless and this wasn't supposed to be happening. Kurt summoned every ounce of strength he had and finally managed to free himself from Blaine's tight grip.

"Right, it's about us. Which is why I don't want to do it on a night that you spent half the night dancing with another guy!" Kurt yelled as he mercifully stepped foot on solid ground and looked angrily at Blaine. "And that you're sober enough to remember it the next day!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Blaine asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"Because I have never felt less like being intimate with someone, and either you can't tell or you just don't care!" retorted Kurt, every unpleasant emotion he'd felt in that car pouring out of him as Blaine sat in the car glaring at him.

"Right, right," said Blaine mockingly, his eyes narrowing further at Kurt. "Maybe if I was him, hmm? You'd be on your back in a minute for him, I bet," he murmured.

Kurt's heart thudded in his chest as he tried to process what Blaine had said. "What?"

Blaine shook his head. "Nothing." He got out of the car and started stumbling across the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" exclaimed Kurt.

"I'm sorry if I'm trying to be spontaneous and fun!" snapped Blaine. "I think I'm just gonna walk home."

"Blaine!" Kurt protested. Blaine ignored him and walked away.

_God,_ thought Kurt, trying not to cry. _How did this go so wrong? All I wanted was to show Blaine I could be fun. _He got into the car and just sat there with his hands on the steering wheel for what felt like hours as he contemplated everything that had just happened and tried unsuccessfully not to cry. What _had_ just happened? Why had Blaine chosen now, of all moments, to want to take their physical relationship to the next level? Kurt thought back to the email full of self defense reading Carson had sent him the other day and quickly tried to forget it. _This wasn't assault, Kurt, don't be stupid_. Blaine was just really drunk and, as the Great Rachel Berry House Party Incident of 2011 had proven, Blaine couldn't really handle his alcohol all that well. Kurt should have understood that.

But still. Carson had been much drunker than Blaine at all those parties, and Kurt knew for a fact that he had asked him to stop or slow down on several occasions whenever they'd ended up making out or whatever. And Carson had. Every single time. So why couldn't Blaine...he knew Kurt wasn't ready yet, and he'd seemed fine with that...but...

_Kurt, just STOP thinking about it and go home before Carson dies of worry, ok?_

He drove home in tears and parked down the street for a full fifteen minutes until he had stopped crying and he decided his face was sufficiently non-puffy. He couldn't let Carson know what had happened. Not only would Carson flip his shit, he would probably definitely beat Blaine the next time he saw him. For everyone's sake, Kurt couldn't say anything.

Especially not what Blaine had said right before he got out of the car.

* * *

Carson sat on the couch with his laptop open, not concentrating at all on the screen. He was worried. Kurt had been gone for hours, and not only did Carson have no idea where the hell he was, but Kurt wasn't answering his phone either. Carson was the only one home to worry about him. Their father and Carole were out of town on some campaign thing now that Burt was running against Coach Sylvester for office. Finn was over at Rachel's house. There was nobody except Carson to wonder where Kurt was or whether he was ok.

He'd tried not to worry at first. Really, he had. He'd settled himself in the living room with his computer and started his research on Blaine. After all, he had a newfound mission. Namely, he wanted to learn all of the little douchebag's secrets so that he could use them against him for as long as it amused him. Granted, so far he had yet to find anything, but still. Diligence was almost always rewarded.

He told himself, when it got to be a little late, that Kurt was fine. That he was worrying too much, like Kurt was constantly telling him. That Kurt and the hobbit had gone to the movies, or to Breadstix, and that he would be home soon. But then an hour passed. And then another hour.

And then Carson had felt something he'd hoped never to feel again. It was a sudden panicky feeling, deep in his stomach, like he was trapped somewhere and couldn't escape. He remembered perfectly the last time it had happened. He'd been in the journalism classroom with Malerie, and it had turned out to be the day, the very moment, actually, that Karofsky assaulted Kurt in the locker room.

_Fuck_, he thought frantically, reaching for his phone. _I swear to god, if that hair gel loving asshole has so much as laid one troll finger on Kurt tonight, he will have so much fucking hell to pay._

He shot off a panicked "Where ARE you?" text to Kurt before he realized calling would be faster. He pressed Kurt's number and held the phone to his ear.

It just rang until Kurt's voicemail message kicked in.

"Kurt, where are you? Pick up the phone, please!" he said as the voicemail beeped. "Baby, I don't even know where you went and I'm really worried, so just...please."

He never did get an answer. He sat motionless on the couch for awhile, counting the minutes passing by and hoping for Kurt to walk through the door any second.

_Kurt, please. You know I worry, please don't do this to me._

Eventually he pulled his laptop back open, desperately checking Kurt and Blaine's Facebook pages for any indication as to where they had gone, but no. Nothing. He was debating calling the police when the front door swung open and Kurt walked in, giving him a nervous smile as he shut the door behind him.

"Kurt!" exclaimed Carson, jumping up from the couch and almost sending his laptop careening to the floor in the process. He'd crossed the room in half a second, scooping Kurt up into a tight, relieved hug. "Kurt, it's been _hours_ and I didn't know where you and Beyonce had gone, and I was so worried, and _why didn't you answer your phone_?"

Kurt hugged him back, so tightly that Carson could feel his nails digging into his back. "I'm sorry, Carsey," he said, his voice muffled against Carson's shoulder. "I forgot to charge my phone. I'm fine."

The desperate way he was clinging to Carson, and the fact that Carson detected a very subtle shudder in Kurt's voice as he spoke told him that his twin was lying. He gently pulled away from the hug and cupped Kurt's face in his hands, searching his eyes for the truth. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like maybe Kurt had been crying. He was definitely upset. Carson remembered the mysterious panic he'd felt earlier and his heart started to pound.

"Kurt, you're lying," said Carson, getting right to the point. "You're upset, I can tell. What happened?"

"Nothing, Carson," said Kurt with a sigh. "Nothing happened. I'm just exhausted. I just want to shower and go to bed."

"Kurt," said Carson, taking his hand and gently leading him over to the couch, where he sat him down and then took a seat beside him. "Don't lie to me. What happened?"

"Really, Carson, it was nothing," said Kurt. "Blaine and I just...we had a fight, and he walked home, and I...I guess I'm just worried, ok? I'm fine."

"A fight about what?" asked Carson. "What did he do? Did he do something to you? _Did he_?"

Kurt swallowed. "N-no, Carson. No. I...he just..." Carson felt Kurt's hands shaking in his own and lightly rubbed his thumb over them.

"Kurt, you're shaking," said Carson. "Please talk to me."

Kurt looked him in the eyes for a long time before he took a deep breath and mumbled "WewenttoScandals."

"What?" asked Carson. He hadn't understood what Kurt said at all.

"We went to Scandals," Kurt repeated.

"What the fuck is Scandals?" asked Carson, thoroughly confused but not liking the sound of it.

Kurt looked uncomfortably down at his shoes. "It's, um...it's a gay bar. In West Lima."

Carson couldn't believe his ears. "You went _where_?" His precious baby brother had been at a fucking _bar_ all night? With the hobbit? Oh _hell no_. "Kurt, what the hell? You went to a bar? Do you have any idea how many horrible things could have happened to you at a fucking bar? You're not even old enough to go to a bar, how did you get in?"

"That...that doesn't matter, ok? The point is we went, and Blaine just drank a little too much and got a little handsy when we left, and then we had a fight, and he walked home, but it _really_ wasn't that big a deal, so you don't have to go all protective big brother, ok?" said Kurt in a rush. "Really. I'm fine. I just need to sleep."

"I'm gonna need you to go back to _handsy_," said Carson, a rush of anger overpowering him at the thought of Blaine pawing at Kurt outside a fucking seedy-ass bar. "Because I need to know just how much damage I need to inflict on the hobbit's hands so that he never becomes _handsy_ ever again."

Kurt closed his eyes. "Carson, _please_. I'm begging you, just let it go. It's really not anything to get upset over. Please?"

Carson could tell by his voice that there was more to the story than Kurt was telling, but he didn't want to force him to talk if he didn't want to. It was enough that Carson didn't like the way Kurt looked right now, like he'd had an extremely rough night. And it was enough that Carson had felt his psychic twin telepathy telling him that something was wrong. That was all the proof he needed that Blaine had been an asshole tonight, and Carson would definitely be having words with him tomorrow, come hell or high water.

* * *

Carson woke up several hours later that night, somehow knowing even before he discovered the empty side of the bed next to him that Kurt was sleepwalking. He'd almost been expecting it. No matter what Kurt wanted him to believe, something had gone down outside that bar. And as had always been the case, whenever Kurt was overwhelmingly stressed, the sleepwalking nightmares came as sure as anything.

A quick glance around the bedroom told Carson that Kurt wasn't in there. He got out of bed and padded down the hallway in his bare feet, peeking his head into every room along the way for any sign of his twin.

"Kurt?" he whispered into the dark. "Kurtsie, where are you, honey?"

"Stop!" a voice called out from behind him. "Stop!"

Carson followed Kurt's voice to Finn's empty room, where he found Kurt half laying and half kneeling on the floor, flailing his arms around as though struggling against an invisible force. "Stop, no!" he whined. "Let go..."

"Kurt," Carson whispered, crossing over to him and stroking gently at his back, trying not to think of the possible implications of what he was witnessing right now. "Kurtsie, get up. Come on." He grabbed Kurt as tenderly as he could around the waist and tried to get him to stand back up, but Kurt was stubborn and refused to budge.

"No, I don't want to," Kurt said. Carson sighed.

"Hey, I heard crying," came Finn's voice from downstairs. He must have been watching late night infomercials or something equally as stupid. "Carson? Is Kurt ok?"

Carson hurried to the doorway and peeked his head out. "He's fine," he hissed. "He's just having a nightmare. I'm putting him back to bed."

Finn shrugged and went back to the TV. Carson rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Kurt, who was whimpering on the floor still. He crossed over to him and gently grabbed him around the waist again, slowly turning him until he could scoop him up in his arms. He made sure he had a good handle on Kurt's weight and then stood up carefully, carrying him out of the room and back down the hall toward their bedroom.

"Mmmph," mumbled Kurt, sagging against Carson as Carson laid him gently down on their bed. "Carsump." Carson assumed that was meant to be his name.

"Yeah, Kurtsie," he whispered softly, getting into bed beside him and pulling him into their usual sleeping position. "It's me. You're ok now, so you can go to sleep, ok?"

"K," agreed Kurt, burrowing closer to Carson and letting out a small snuffle. Carson smiled at the adorableness and lightly stroked at Kurt's arm. He almost didn't notice the bruise at first because of the darkness of the room, but a closer look at Kurt's upper arm and the lifting up of his T-shirt sleeve revealed what Carson had been afraid he'd seen. There was a bruise there, as plain as day. Almost like he'd been roughly grabbed by someone's careless hand.

Like, say, outside a fucking gay bar all the way across town.

That, combined with Kurt's nightmare, made Carson desperately wish for teleportation powers so that he could beam himself right to the hobbit and beat the fuck out of him right then and there.

_I hope you made it home alright, Benny_, thought Carson angrily as he held Kurt tightly to him. _Because I have unfinished business with your hobbit ass._

He didn't waste any time, either. He got to school early and waited right across where he knew Blaine's locker was, since he'd passed by him and Kurt hanging out in front of it often enough. As luck would have it, there was a boys' bathroom directly across from the wall of lockers that would just be perfect for a little one on one chat with Asshole McGelmet, and Carson was waiting just inside the door, peeking around every once in a while to see if Blaine had arrived. He was going to make goddamn sure that Blaine knew exactly who he was fucking dealing with here. You did _not_ fuck with Kurt and expect to get away with it.

As soon as he saw Blaine enter the thankfully still empty hallway, Carson seized his chance. He marched out of the bathroom and grabbed the back of Blaine's sweater, dragging him into the boys' bathroom and shoving him roughly up against the wall, one hand on each of Blaine's shoulders to pin him there.

"What the fuck?" Blaine exclaimed angrily, trying to push past Carson, but barely even managing to sway him a little. "Get the hell off of me!"

"No," said Carson dangerously. Now that he had Blaine right where he wanted him, the feeling of power was really overwhelming. He could do anything right now. He could punch him right in the face if he wanted to, but he wouldn't. He wasn't here for that. He would need to exercise a _little_ self-control, if only because it would upset Kurt for Blaine to turn up with a black eye.

"What the hell do _you_ want?" asked Blaine, giving Carson a spiteful look. "Don't you usually spend your mornings hanging posters for your little club that nobody cares about but you?"

"You're going to stand there and you're going to fucking listen to what I have to say, dwarf, because I've had just about enough of your bullshit. What the fuck were those bruises on Kurt, huh?" Carson spat, ignoring the insult. "Who the fuck do you think you are? I don't know the details of what went on between you two last night outside a _bar_, but I know I don't fucking like the way Kurt looked when he got home. And I _really_ don't like the fact that he had a bruise on his arm that could only have come from you."

"Saw that while you were sharing inappropriately close bedroom quarters, did you?" asked Blaine. "Like I've told you before, you're creepy and controlling, and Kurt is lucky to have me. And furthermore, I'm not scared of you, and it's none of your damn business what went on last night, so get. Off. Of Me." He tried again, unsuccessfully, to push past Carson.

Carson leaned in close, locking eyes with him and somehow managing to hold himself back from kicking him in the balls. "You are so fucking lucky that Kurt cares whether you live or die, because right now, that's the only thing keeping me from introducing you to the world of pain you deserve," he said in a low voice. "But make no mistake, if I EVER catch wind of you being violent toward my brother again, even so much as accidentally bumping into him without fucking saying "excuse me," I will not be controlling myself any longer. Are we clear?"

Blaine leaned his face closer to Carson's and narrowed his eyes. "Jealous?" he asked with a smirk, and Carson could swear he felt his blood boiling with anger. He removed his hands from Blaine's shoulders and grabbed him by the bowtie, wondering what it would feel like to twist it and strangle him to death, but deciding jail wasn't worth the risk.

"I fucking mean it," he said fiercely. "Now get the hell out of my sight," he added, letting Blaine go and pointing toward the door. Blaine adjusted his tie and flashed Carson a sarcastic smile before hurrying out of the bathroom. Carson let out a breath and leaned up against the wall, hating Blaine more than ever, which was saying a lot.

_Kurt will come to his senses. He will. Any day now he will recognize that Blaine doesn't deserve him, and he will dump him._

_God, please._

* * *

"I want to go to your house."

That was what Kurt had said to Blaine following their first performance of _West Side Story_. He had caught Blaine alone on the stage, practicing a dance move he felt he hadn't gotten right during the performance, and he'd smiled to himself. He'd done a lot of thinking over the past two nights, and he'd decided that maybe he'd been wrong to make Blaine wait so long to take their relationship to the next level. If he didn't give in soon, he'd probably end up losing Blaine.

So they had gone back to Blaine's house.

And even as it was happening, Kurt wondered if he'd made the right decision after all. Because all he could think about the whole time was Carson. How he wished it was Carson helping him remove his clothing. Carson unwrapping the condom. Carson screaming Kurt's name into a pillow as he came. And he knew, deep down, that no, he hadn't made the right decision. He hadn't been ready. But it was too late now.

And then, after roughly five minutes of cuddling afterwards, Blaine had strongly suggested that Kurt go home.

"I'm kind of tired," he'd said. "And my parents will probably be home soon."

So Kurt had gone home, feeling emptier than he'd ever felt in his life. He'd snuck into the house and prayed to all the gods he had no belief in that Carson had fallen asleep already. Thankfully, he had. He was out cold on their bed, looking like an absolute angel. He still had his glasses on and a pen in his hand, his notebook laying open beside him. Kurt smiled, trying to push away the crippling feeling of guilt that overwhelmed him. He showered quickly and got into bed, skipping his facial routine and not even caring. He didn't burrow himself into Carson's arms like usual. He didn't feel like he deserved to.

And then he started to cry. He buried his face into his pillow and let go, until he heard Carson stirring awake beside him.

"Hey, you're home," Carson said sleepily. "How was Artie's after party?"

"Great," Kurt croaked, refusing to turn his head. He didn't need Carson seeing his tear streaked face.

"C'mere," murmured Carson, pulling him into his arms and placing a kiss to his temple. "Wanna hold you."

Kurt reached for Carson's hand and squeezed it as though his life depended on it. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Hmm, what?" Carson asked.

"Nothing," replied Kurt. "Just...please hold me."

Carson held him tighter and kissed his shoulder. "Of course. Goodnight, Kurtsie. I love you."

"I love you too." _And I still maintain that feelings are stupid and I would give anything to have been born without them._


	18. Chapter 18

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, everyone! Welcome to the longest chapter we have ever written! (Seriously, I almost had a heart attack when I saw the word count). As always, we love and adore you all, and we appreciate every single review and kind word you say about this fic. *Smiles like a fool* Please be advised that this chapter contains SBL spoilers, so proceed with caution.**

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**Ok. Let's read!**

"Mmm, thank you, Kurt," Blaine murmured, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up as Kurt got up off of knees, coughing and gagging and holding one hand up to his lips. Kurt wasn't sure what he had expected from his first time giving a blowjob, but he guessed maybe he had expected it to be a little more...sexy. It wasn't. It was awkward and uncomfortable. He'd had no idea what he was doing, and had been too busy concentrating on trying to breathe the whole time to even focus on giving it any technique. Blaine grabbing his hair and shoving himself as far into Kurt's mouth as possible before Kurt was ready didn't help. And the less said about the taste of..._that stuff_, the better. Kurt hadn't really wanted to swallow it, but Blaine had given him no warning before coming, and it was either swallow or spit it out. And spitting was far from graceful.

"That was good, baby," said Blaine appreciatively. Kurt let him kiss him on the lips, wondering briefly if Blaine could taste himself, and if so, what _he_ thought of the taste.

"Um...do you have any mouthwash or anything?" Kurt asked, feeling slightly embarrassed for asking, but he simply had to get rid of the taste in his mouth. Blaine chuckled.

"Yeah. Bathroom cabinet."

"Thanks," said Kurt, hurriedly escaping to the bathroom and taking a long look at himself in the mirror. He and Blaine had officially been sexually active for almost a week now, and it still felt weird to Kurt. Actually, it was more than that. It just didn't feel right. Kurt wanted it to feel right. He really did. Blaine had turned into something of an insatiable sex monster, and Kurt felt like he owed it to him not to be so prudish in their relationship anymore, since he'd made him wait so long before their first time. And it wasn't like he didn't enjoy the sex, sometimes. After all, he'd always just kind of assumed that he wouldn't become sexually active until college due to lack of prospects.

But still. Every time they did it, Kurt couldn't stop Carson's face from surfacing at the front of his mind, making him wish on a thousand stars that it was Carson writhing in pleasure underneath him, and Carson's eyes he looked into afterwards, searching for unconditional love and security.

He found the mouthwash and quickly rinsed out his mouth, letting the minty liquid wash away the bitter taste of Blaine. His boyfriend was sitting cross-legged on the bed when Kurt came back into the bedroom, flashing him a wide smile.

"So," he said, holding out his hands to Kurt. "I think tomorrow night we should go to Breadstix or something. It's been awhile since we went out on, you know...a real date," he said with a mischievous wink. "One where we actually go somewhere and wear clothes, that is."

Kurt smiled, letting himself be pulled down into Blaine's lap. "That sounds nice, Blaine, but we can't."

Blaine's smile disappeared. "Why not?"

"Homecoming, silly," said Kurt, sitting beside him on the bed. "Carson's float for the Writers' Club is in the parade, and I told him I would go."

Blaine groaned. "Ugh, come on, Kurt," he said in a whiny voice. "It's just a parade. Do we really have to go?"

Kurt sighed. "_Yes_, Blaine, we do. At least, I do. He's...my brother." He hesitated a little, remembering Blaine's drunken words outside Scandals. "It's important to him, and I promised. Besides, you like football."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yeah, good football. Not McKinley's team. I think Carson would understand if you decided to skip it to spend time with your _boyfriend_. At least, he _should_."

Kurt felt a surge of guilt. It _had_ been awhile since he and Blaine had been out (they hadn't gone anywhere together, other than Blaine's house, since Scandals), and it would be nice to go on a real date. But he couldn't let Carson down. _That_ was out of the question. He'd done that more than enough already.

"Ok, how about we go somewhere together after the parade is over?" Kurt suggested. "It shouldn't be too late once all the floats have passed." Blaine pouted, but finally nodded.

"Ok, fine. We can drive over to the school together, and I'll make Breadstix reservations for afterwards. But only because the parade is so important to you."

Kurt smiled. "Thank you," he said, leaning in to kiss him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Blaine waved as Kurt walked toward the door. "Bye."

_See, Kurt? He DOES care about you._

Kurt arrived home that afternoon to find Carson laying on his stomach on the living room floor, kicking his feet in the air like a little kid and painstakingly drawing lines on a large sheet of cardboard with a pen and a ruler.

"I see you're alive in in one piece," said Carson as he carefully moved the pen across the cardboard. "Boppo is still as douchetastic as ever, I trust."

Kurt smiled, ignoring the sarcasm. "Preparing for homecoming?" he asked, settling himself down on his own stomach beside Carson and draping one arm around his twin's shoulders.

Carson nodded. "Yep. This is Malerie's notebook costume," he said, indicating the cardboard in front of him. He then pointed to the couch, where a giant piece of yellow cardboard was laying. "And that's my pencil costume. We finished painting our float yesterday, and it actually looks pretty good. I mean, it has to. This is my last chance to actually recruit people for the magazine."

"You will," said Kurt reassuringly, giving Carson's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"I hope so," said Carson. "If this doesn't work, I'm pretty much fucked. And you know how people at that school are."

"Carson, it will be fine," said Kurt, moving his hand to start rubbing comforting circles into Carson's back. "I saw your float. Well, not the finished version, but what I saw was gorgeous. It's just the thing you need to convince people. Don't worry."

"And you're not just saying that because I'm your brother and you feel like you have to?" asked Carson teasingly.

Kurt laughed. "No. No, I mean every word." He leaned in and kissed Carson on the cheek, and felt butterflies in his stomach when Carson let out a happy sigh.

"Thanks, Kurtsie," said Carson, finishing the line he'd been drawing with a flourish.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Despite the fact that Blaine was slightly late the next afternoon in picking Kurt up to go to the homecoming game, they still managed to make it there early enough to get decent seats in the bleachers. Kurt wanted as good a view as possible of Carson's float. He was planning on taking a picture for a scrapbook he was making of their senior year, and he wanted that picture to be perfect. And since he hadn't seen Carson since English class that day (Carson had stayed at school all afternoon to prepare for the parade), there was one other thing he had to do.

"Hey, I'm going to go wish Carson good luck, ok?" he said to Blaine once they had found their spots. "I'll be back in just a minute." Blaine sighed, but nodded."I'll save your seat," he said.

"Thanks, baby," said Kurt, working his way through the crowd of people piling into the bleachers as quickly as possible. He spotted Carson at the outer edge of the football field, along with the rest of the clubs participating in the parade. He was dressed in his pencil costume, standing next to the float, which contained a giant composition book with "Join the Writers' Club- It's the write club for you!" written carefully on it. Malerie stood on top of the float, wearing the notebook costume Carson had been making yesterday. Kurt smiled to himself as he made his way closer. Carson was the most adorable (and hottest) pencil he'd ever seen, that was for sure. He watched as Claire Mathews walked up to Carson, who placed his hands on his hips as she started talking. Whatever she was saying, Kurt could tell that Carson didn't like it, judging by the look of fury that was crossing his twin's face.

"Go take the athlete's truck away," Carson was saying irritably as Kurt finally drew near enough to hear what was going on. "They pride themselves on running around like mules anyway!"

"I'm sorry, my decision is final," chirped Claire, turning around and giving Kurt a sneer as she walked back to the Cheerios' float. Carson was pacing and practically turning purple with rage as Kurt approached him.

"Why does every fucking thing in my life have to be a disaster?" he groaned. Kurt came up to him and placed his hands on his shoulders.

"Carsey, what's wrong?" he asked. "What was that about?"

Carson took a deep breath and turned around to face Kurt, looking like he was on the verge of a complete meltdown as his voice shook more with every word he spoke. "The fucking Cheerios are taking the truck that was supposed to pull my float, and Claire was only too happy to inform me of this piece of bullshit. God, I hate her so much. It's not even her fucking decision anyway, she probably went and gave them my truck without even consulting Santana about it, and-"

Kurt involuntarily shuddered at the mention of Santana and ran his hands gently up and down Carson's arms, since he couldn't hug him because of the pencil costume. "Shhh, Carson, calm down. You're going to give yourself a stroke."

Carson took a deep breath and looked into Kurt's eyes as he let it out slowly. "There's got to be a way," he said, looking around thoughtfully. "There's got to."

"Too bad," said Malerie sadly from her perch on top of the float. "Well, at least we had fun making it."

A look of determination flashed across Carson's face and he set his jaw. "No," he said. "They're going to see this float if it kills me."

"Carson," said Kurt, his hands still on his brother's arms. "You're not planning on, like, injuring the Cheerios or something, are you? Because you can't go to Northwestern if you're in jail."

Carson smiled distractedly. "Don't be silly, Kurtsie. The intense satisfaction would be awesome, but so not worth it."

Kurt smiled back. "Good."

Carson's smile disappeared and the determined look was back. "But they're going to see the fucking float." He kissed Kurt on the cheek, bringing up one hand to rub his thumb on the skin his lips had just touched. "Go back to the bleachers and make yourself comfortable, ok? I'll see you after the game."

Kurt nodded, his twin instinct telling him that it was probably best to just follow instructions and get out of Carson's way. He gave Malerie a wave and headed back to his seat, settling in beside Blaine just as the game started.

"I still don't see why we couldn't have just come for the parade and then left," said Blaine. "The Titans suck." Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's and rested his head on his shoulder, if for no other reason than to distract Blaine from his whining. He hoped Carson had found a way to get the float in the parade.

At long last, the band started playing, and the parade began. Kurt reached into his pocket for his phone, determined to capture a photo of Carson, but still slightly worried about what the photo would be of, exactly. The Cheerios' float was first, and Kurt could see Santana shooting dangerous, murderous looks at Claire, who was waving cheesily to the loudly applauding crowd. Then came the athlete's float, and then the entire crowd went completely, deafeningly silent.

_Oh no,_ thought Kurt, biting his lip in worry as he saw what everyone was looking so quietly at. _Oh, Carsey, honey._

There was Carson, in his pencil costume complete with eraser hat, pulling the Writers' Club float across the football field, his face red with exertion as he grasped at the rope he had attached to the end of the float. Malerie still stood on top of it, opening and closing the giant composition book and waving as though nothing was wrong. A quiet snickering started up from several rows back, which quickly spread until a chorus of quiet giggles was echoing through the air.

_What the hell is wrong with all you jerks?_ Kurt thought angrily. _Clap for him, for god's sake!_ He unlooped his arm from Blaine's and started clapping just as the crowd started uproariously laughing. _Laughing_. They were laughing. Kurt sat there helplessly, watching as everyone around him, including the parents and most of the teachers, pointed and laughed at Carson, who was still doing his best to pull the float. Kurt could see the frustration and anger on his face, and his heart broke for him.

_Oh, Carsey, baby, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that the school is full of assholes._

And the worst part...the absolute worst part...was that Blaine was laughing, too. In fact, if Kurt didn't know any better, he'd say it sounded like Blaine was laughing the loudest.

"Oh my god, what an idiot," joyfully exclaimed the guy sitting on Blaine's other side. Kurt watched in disbelief as Blaine snorted at the guy and nodded.

"I know," he said. "Seriously!"

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to calm the swell of anger that was quickly overtaking his sadness for Carson. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing right now. He hated everyone and everything at the moment.

"SCREW YOU!" yelled Carson from the football field, and he was close enough now for Kurt to see just how much of a storm cloud his face was. He watched as Carson finished pulling the float off the field and then stormed away in the direction of the student parking lot, ripping his pencil costume off in the process. Kurt immediately got up from his seat. He had to go after him. He couldn't let Carson be alone right now.

"Where are you going?" asked Blaine, grabbing at Kurt's arm. "We have plans after this!"

Kurt turned and glared at him, roughly shaking his arm away from Blaine's grip. "Why don't you go to Breadstix by yourself, Blaine, because I really don't feel like going out on a date tonight with someone who just participated in mocking and ridiculing my brother." Blaine's brow furrowed and he sighed.

"Kurt," he said, reaching again for Kurt's hand. "Come on, it was just-"

"Blaine, I don't want to be around you right now," Kurt snapped, hurrying out of the bleachers and running as fast as he could toward the parking lot. He reached it just as Carson was reaching for the handle of his car door.

"Carson!" he shouted. "Carson, stop!" Carson turned around to face Kurt, and Kurt sucked in a breath at just how awful he looked. Not just physically, with his red, sweaty face and the way he looked like he was in a lot of pain from pulling that float, but emotionally. He looked defeated and so very angry. Kurt closed the distance between them and hugged him, holding him close and rubbing his back as Carson took deep breaths, his arms still hanging by his sides.

"Carsey, I'm so sorry," said Kurt quietly. "They're all jerks."

"I don't ask for much," Carson murmured, bringing his hands up to hug Kurt back. "Why does nothing ever go my way?" He sounded like he wanted to cry, but was holding back.

"I know, baby, I know," soothed Kurt. "Come on, let me take you home." He led Carson over to the passenger side door, noting that Carson's palms were bleeding with rope burn. He'd have to make sure to tend to that for him when they got home.

"Kurt, you can't ride in this car," protested Carson. "It's a death trap."

Kurt smiled. "It'll be fine, Carson. I promise. You manage to drive it every day and you're still alive." Carson closed his eyes and sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I'm too exhausted to argue with you." He let Kurt gently push him inside the car and fasten his seatbelt, and then Kurt was driving them home, marveling at the fact that Carson's car ran at all, considering how long it took to even start the engine.

He led Carson up to their bathroom immediately when they got home, sitting him gently on the closed toilet while he gathered up some antiseptic and gauze bandages.

"I'll never get any submissions for the magazine now," Carson mumbled as Kurt delicately applied antiseptic to his hands. "That was my last shot. Nobody cares. Nobody wants to write for it. I'm screwed. I won't have a prayer of early acceptance, or maybe _any_ acceptance to Northwestern, because my school is full of fucking jackasses."

Kurt tenderly wrapped Carson's hands in the gauze and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't give up hope, honey. That's not like you."

"But Kurt, how much clearer can the universe be?" asked Carson bitterly. "Apparently it's trying to tell me that I should give up ever wanting anything, because I'll never have a prayer of getting it."

Kurt finished wrapping his hands and brushed a stray piece of hair off Carson's forehead. "You'll get those submissions," he said. "You will. You'll think of something. I have faith in you."

The beginnings of a smile played at the corners of Carson's mouth. "Really?"

"Of course!" said Kurt. He took hold of Carson's bandaged hands and kissed each of them in turn. "You never give up, and I love that about you." Carson bit his lip as their eyes locked.

"You're the one good thing in my life, Kurt," he said. "The one really good, perfect thing, and I love you. I just...I just want you to know that."

Kurt felt his stomach do a weird flip as helped Carson stand up and drew him into a hug. "I...I love you, too," he said.

He went through his moisturizing routine as quickly as possible while Carson sat back down and watched him, their eyes catching each other in the mirror every so often. Kurt could tell that the events of the evening were still weighing heavily on his twin's mind, and he wished he had magic powers or something to just make all the hurt go away for him.

"Shall we go to sleep?" he asked when he finished, holding his hand out to Carson and smiling. Carson took it and allowed Kurt to lead him into bed and tuck him in before closing the light and climbing in beside him. Kurt held his arms out to him and Carson took the hint, burrowing into them and resting his head against Kurt's chest. Kurt was going to hold Carson tonight for a change, and Carson seemed to welcome it. He sighed and kissed Kurt's collarbone through his shirt as Kurt stroked his fingers through his hair.

"I just realized how sore I am," mumbled Carson. "Fucking float was heavy."

"Poor baby," said Kurt soothingly, rubbing Carson's back. "Want a massage?"

"Would it involve leaving your arms?" asked Carson sleepily.

"Yeah," said Kurt.

"Then no thank you," said Carson, pressing himself closer to Kurt and sighing, his voice growing softer and fainter with every word he spoke. "I'm happy where I am."

Kurt smiled. "Ok," he said with a laugh. "Go to sleep, Carsey. You've had a long day."

There was no response from Carson. He had fallen asleep. Kurt smiled down at him and closed his own eyes, following Carson into slumber within minutes.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was still dark. 3:00 in the morning, according to the clock on his nightstand. He felt a strange emptiness in his arms and was momentarily confused until he realized that Carson was all the way on the other side of the bed, hunched over the glowing screen of his phone. Kurt's eyes adjusted as he watched Carson dial a number and hold the phone up to his ear.

"Malerie?" he said into the phone. "It's Carson...Carson _Hummel_...Operation _Limagate _is in effect."

Kurt had no idea what he was talking about, but he had a feeling it involved a new way to get those literary submissions. _I knew he'd think of something_, he thought proudly as he reached for his own phone on his nightstand. There were fifteen texts from Blaine on his screen, most of them asking in various ways if Kurt was still mad at him. Kurt scrolled through the messages, growing ever more frustrated with each one he passed until he got to the last two.

_**Don't be so sensitive. I was just kidding! -B**_

_**Come on, you forgive me, right? -B**_

Kurt sighed and placed his phone back on the charger. He was in no mood to answer Blaine right now. He was still upset that Blaine had laughed at Carson, and he needed his boyfriend to understand that an attack on Carson felt just like an attack on Kurt.

_If he really loves me, he'll have to learn to recognize that_, he thought sleepily. It was his last coherent thought before he felt Carson pull him into his arms in his usual way and he drifted off to sleep with a contented sigh.

* * *

To say that Carson was on a mission would be putting it mildly. He wasn't just on a mission, he was ready to fucking do battle. The homecoming fiasco had absolutely been the last straw, and he was done playing nice. He was going to get those literary submissions if it fucking killed him.

He had woken up in Kurt's arms that night and was just laying there basking in how good it felt to be held by those strong arms, when his thoughts had started to drift to how screwed he was if he didn't get those submissions extremely soon. And how Kurt had reassured him that he _would_ get them, because he had faith in Carson. And well...who was Carson to prove Kurt wrong? There had to be a way he hadn't tried yet.

And then he remembered his conversation with Malerie the day they had discovered the submissions box full of trash (including Blaine's, which he still hadn't shown to Kurt because a tiny part of him worried that maybe Kurt wouldn't believe it). He remembered Malerie strongly suggesting that blackmail was a good idea. He remembered deciding to do it to Blaine just for kicks.

And now it had officially come to this. The only way he was going to get those submissions was to blackmail as many people as possible in as short an amount of time as possible.

So he wasted no time. While Kurt spent most of the weekend hanging out at Blaine's house (and Carson really didn't want to think about that), he spent his time planning his strategy on the phone with Malerie and making neat flyers on yellow paper using Kurt's printer. "_You are cordially invited to attend a mandatory meeting in the journalism classroom Friday after school_," they said. He didn't know how many he would need, so he made a whole stack. He figured the more people he could snag, the better. He couldn't wait for Monday.

He and Malerie made a large bulletin board on Monday during a free period and neatly labeled it "_LIMAGATE" _at the top, sticking school photos of the victims Carson planned to start with underneath the label. So far he only had pictures of people he knew for sure he could blackmail (his journalism team, several people from the student council, including Nicholas and Scott since he already had material on them anyway, and Coach Beiste's assistant, Coach Walker). He also had Blaine's picture up there, even though he still had yet to dig up a damn thing on him. Carson was determined, though.

_I will find something_, he thought, staring disgustedly at the photo, from which Blaine was showing off his teeth and looking like he was planning on how to be an even bigger douchebag. _I fucking will._

He also was still trying to find a way to get the whole glee club to contribute, since he figured they owed him for all the hours of pain he had experienced watching them sing, but he had nothing on any of them as of yet. So, first things first.

He handed out flyers to Nicholas and Scott (easy enough to do, since he happened to catch them coming out of the bathroom at the same time) and to Remy Baker, the bitchy yearbook editor and vice president on the student council (he had anonymously trapped her into sending him half naked photos of herself, which he was fully planning on burning in the nearest fireplace once he had her submission in hand, in order to restore the little piece of his soul that had died when he set eyes on them). So far, so good. That was three guaranteed submissions right there, provided that they obeyed their flyers. He wondered why he hadn't just done this blackmail thing sooner. It would have saved him a lot of stressing out.

He was sitting at his desk in the journalism classroom that afternoon after school had ended, trying to continue his research on Blaine, when Kurt came strolling in, perching himself adorably on the edge of the desk. Carson closed his laptop and looked up at him.

"Hey Kurtsie," he said with a smile. "What's up?"

"We've been summoned, Kurt replied, hopping down from the desk and gesturing for Carson to follow him. "Finn wants us in the gym as soon as possible."

"Why?" asked Carson, sliding his laptop into his bag and taking the hand Kurt had reached out to him.

"Dodgeball competition. Troubletones versus New Directions," said Kurt, leading him out of the classroom.

"…..what?" asked Carson, confused. Kurt sighed.

"You really should stop skipping glee meetings so much," he said. "Finn and Santana are kind of at each others' throats, and our respective teams have been drawn into it. Hence the dodgeball competition."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," said Carson as they walked down the hall toward the gym. "And I hate dodgeball."

"Well, you don't _have_ to come," said Kurt, stopping in his tracks and looking at him. "But I would _really_ like it if you did." He pouted and fluttered his eyelashes at Carson in an exaggerated way, and Carson snorted.

"Fine. I'll go, but I'm not going to actually play."

Kurt smiled. "Ok!"

They made a stop in the locker room to change into their gym uniforms, which apparently was a rule for this game or whatever. Carson didn't really mind, since it meant he got to see Kurt shirtless, and any time he got to see Kurt shirtless was a good time. Staring at Kurt made him the last one to finish changing, though, so by the time he entered the gym the game was just about to begin.

"This could be deadly," Rachel was saying to Kurt as Carson walked up to them. "I mean, facing our foes head-on without any adult supervision?" Kurt sat down on an exercise ball and ignored her, focusing all his attention on his shoes. Carson knew he was still pissed at her for running against him for student body president, and he couldn't blame him one bit. If only Carson had blackmail material on _her_. He decided to stand back and watch for a minute to see just how long she would try to talk to Kurt before she got the hint to piss off.

"So, uh, you know that our NYADA applications are due next week," Rachel tried again. "I only need one more letter of recommendation. I wrote to Patti LuPone on her website, but I haven't heard from her yet, so..." Kurt continued ignoring her. Carson was about to tell her to go fuck herself because she was essentially doing everything in her power to sabotage Kurt's chances at NYADA, but he was distracted by the sight of Blaine prancing around across the gym wearing the short-shorts version of the McKinley gym uniform. He very nearly threw up his lunch right there on the gym floor.

"I...I really...I really miss you, Kurt," Rachel said as Carson turned his attention back to them. "And I just...I really want to be your friend again."

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you walked all over me in your borderline sociopathic climb to the top," replied Kurt, noticing Carson and waving. He got up from his ball and left Rachel looking dejected. Carson smirked at her. _Fuck off, Trollberry_.

The game began, and Carson was reminded why he hated dodgeball above all other sports when he spent a majority of the time trying to shield Kurt from getting hit in the face (or anywhere else) by the barrage of balls that were flying all over the place. He took quite a number of hits by throwing himself in front of balls that were aimed at Kurt.

Kurt, for his part, seemed to be having fun. He was throwing just as many balls as were being thrown at him, so Carson decided he would be fine and he turned his attention to throwing as many as he could at Blaine.

"Carson, you're supposed to be throwing balls at the _other_ team!" shouted Rachel.

"Fuck off!" Carson said gleefully, aiming a ball at Blaine's back and throwing with all his strength. Blaine chose an unfortunate moment to turn around and the ball ended up hitting him right in the face. He glared at Carson and picked the ball up, throwing it right back at him. Carson ducked and the ball hit Rachel in the stomach, which Carson counted as a victory.

The game eventually ended, but Carson kept up throwing stray balls in Blaine's direction whenever Kurt wasn't looking. He was having so much fun he didn't even notice that the Troubletones had started tossing all their balls at Rory, the new kid, until he heard Kurt screaming "Stop it! Stop it!" Carson threw one last ball at Blaine and turned around.

Everyone went silent. A loud _thwonk_ echoed throughout the gym as the ball Carson had thrown hit Blaine in the arm and then bounced onto the floor.

"For god's sake, he's bleeding!" said Kurt, kneeling down beside Rory and placing his hand on his shoulder. "Maybe that's how the others treat us around here, but we don't do this to each other. We're better than this!"

"Calm down, Grandma," scoffed Santana, her hands on her hips. Carson glared at her.

"Shut up, Santana. Kurt's right," he said. Santana rolled her eyes.

"This game's over," said Kurt, helping Rory up and into the locker room to clean up his bloody face. Carson started to follow them when he felt a ball hit him hard on the back of his neck.

"Ow, what the fuck!" he exclaimed, turning around to find Blaine smirking at him with crossed arms.

_Oh, FUCK YOU, hobbit breath._

* * *

Carson had to get creative the next day, but still managed to at least make Vicki and Dwayne his latest victims. Sure, he now knew more about the annual Western Ohio Satanfest than he ever knew or wished to know thanks to his research on Vicki, but at least she had taken the flyer (and promised to vote for Kurt for student body president) when he had gleefully shown her the photos he'd printed out. Dwayne had been easy. All Carson and Malerie had had to do was wave a bag of fake marijuana in his face and threaten to go to Figgins and he'd instantly caved.

Carson was so happy that his plan was going so well that he didn't even go to any of his classes. He stayed in the journalism classroom all day, furiously searching for something, anything, on Blaine that he could use. He was running out of time, and he desperately wanted to get that jackass under his thumb. Unfortunately, for someone who was such a jerk when he thought no one was looking, Blaine seemed to have a pretty squeaky clean online image. Carson couldn't even manage to find so much as one swear word on his Facebook page. It was disconcerting.

_There has to be something_, he thought, gathering up his stuff to leave that afternoon. _There's got to be. _He stepped out into the hallway and headed in the direction of Kurt's locker just as the bell rang and the beady eyed masses otherwise known as students started filling the trenches.

"Cattle!" he yelled at them as he pushed his way past them. He passed by Finn and Santana, who seemed to be having another one of the arguments they apparently had been having a lot of lately, and was just about to turn the corner when he heard Finn's voice ringing out into the hallway.

"Hey, Santana," Finn said loudly, "Why don't you just come out of the closet?"

Carson froze and turned around, noticing that Santana had also froze and was standing stock still in the middle of the hallway with her back to Finn, who was slowly walking nearer to her.

"You know," he continued, "I think I know why you're so good at tearing everybody else down. It's because you're constantly tearing yourself down because you can't admit to everybody that you're in love with Brittany and she might not love you back. That must hurt, to not be able to admit to everyone how you really feel. You know what I think you are? A coward." Finn walked off then, and Carson watched as Santana continued to stand there in the hall, with other students passing her by. He hated to admit it, but he felt awful for her. It was weird, feeling sympathy for someone who wasn't Kurt, but there it was.

Maybe it was because he thought Finn was being an asshole, announcing right there in the middle of the hallway what everyone in the glee club pretty much knew already, but which Carson sincerely doubted that anyone else knew. Or maybe it was because it had been Santana who had, seemingly on purpose, provided Carson with many a free opportunity to kiss Kurt, and he felt just a smidge of gratitude toward her despite her bitchiness. Not that he would admit this to anyone.

But mostly it was because Finn could just as easily have been talking about him and his feelings for Kurt. Carson couldn't see Santana's face, but he could see her shoulders seizing up as though she were trying not to cry. He knew that stance all too well. He did it all the time.

So he supposed that was what made him carefully approach Santana and awkwardly place his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. She looked over at him and Carson could see that she really _had_ started crying. Just a little bit, but it was obvious.

"Finn's an asshole," Carson said in order to break the uncomfortable silence. Santana gave him a small smile of understanding and nodded.

"Carson!" came Kurt's voice from behind them. Carson let go of Santana's shoulder turned around. He smiled and shivered slightly as Kurt wrapped one arm possessively around his waist and fixed Santana with a tight smile that more closely resembled a grimace. "Satan," said Kurt.

Santana gave him a wide, obviously fake smile, all evidence of tears gone from her face. "Lady Hummel," she said in a voice laced with sarcasm. "How lovely to see you. Come to pick up your man, have you?"

Kurt cocked his head to the side, his smile never wavering, although his cheeks turned slightly pink. "I'm sorry, shouldn't you be off bullying those weaker than you?"

"You know what? You're absolutely right" answered Santana. "I'll leave you to shove Carson into a closet somewhere so you can make sweet love. Peace."

Kurt's grip on Carson's waist tightened as Santana turned and disappeared around the corner. "I haven't seen you all day," he said, looking at Carson. "Not even at lunch or in English. I was worried."

"Oh, I was...um...doing journalism...stuff," said Carson by way of a really lame explanation. "Are you nervous for the debate tomorrow?"

"Terrified," answered Kurt. "I _need_ to win, Carson. You have no idea."

"You will," said Carson, pulling him into a hug. "You're the best candidate."

"It's the only way NYADA will take me," murmured Kurt. "If I lose, I'm screwed."

"You won't lose," assured Carson. "You just make the best speech you can, and the rest will take care of itself."

He felt Kurt relax in his arms. "You're right," he said.

"Of course I am."

* * *

Carson came into school early the next morning and headed straight to the journalism classroom to wait for Malerie. They had planned to go over what they had accomplished so far for "Limagate" and plan their strategies for what to do next. Carson still wanted to somehow get the glee club under his thumb, although he had no idea how he could gather enough dirt on all of them in time to make the magazine.

He entered the journalism classroom and switched on the light, preparing to go sit at his desk and set up his laptop when he noticed that he couldn't. Because there was already someone sitting there.

"Santana, what the fuck?" he exclaimed after he had let out an undignified, extremely loud shriek. She smirked at him and crossed her arms.

"That's quite a set of lungs, Hummel Two. I'm impressed."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here anyway? Trying to give me a heart attack?"

Her smirk disappeared. "Tempting, but no. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

She sighed and gave him a serious look. "Ok, this isn't something I normally do, but...I mean, you and I kind of had a moment yesterday, and I feel like I need to say this, so listen up."

"Say what?" asked Carson, still trying to figure out her motives. He _knew_ trying to comfort her in her hour of need would come back to bite him in the ass.

"I want to apologize," she said. "God, that sounds so wrong." He blinked at her, confused.

"For what?"

She sighed. "For making so many jokes about you and Kurt being secret lovers. It was mean, and I'm sorry now that I've had a taste of someone running their mouth about _my_ personal secrets in public."

Carson felt his face heating up and tried desperately to play it cool. "Oh, that?" he said, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but at her. "Those were just...just jokes. Don't even worry about it. Nobody paid any attention to you." He hoped his dismissive attitude would make her drop it and never speak of it again.

No such luck. "Yeah, they were jokes, but they were true, weren't they?" she asked quietly. Carson felt all the blood rushing to his head as he desperately tried to think of a way, any way, to get her to shut up and stop talking. He so did _not_ want to be having this conversation right now, least of all with Santana, whom he didn't entirely trust not to be recording the whole thing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped. "Now, if you don't mind, I have shit to do, so can you just-"

"Look, Carson, I know for a fact that you have nobody to talk to about this and that's got to suck ass, so I'm trying to not be a bitch," she said, leaning back in her chair and looking at him with a significantly softer expression on her face than he was used to seeing on her. "I've seen the way you look at him."

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Carson asked, looking down at his shoes. He'd have to wash them later. Maybe today. They were getting really filthy.

"I know that look, Hummel. I give it to Brittany all the time," answered Santana. "You look at him like he's the most precious thing in the world to you, and you would do anything just to see him smile."

Carson wished for the floor to open up and swallow him right then and there, because the very last thing he wanted to do was finish this conversation to its inevitable end. Of course Santana knew. Of course she did. It all made sense now. All those times she had dared him and Kurt to make out...maybe it was possible that she hadn't been doing it just to be a bitch. Maybe she had also, in her own weird, Santana way, been trying to _help_ him.

"I've also seen the way you look when he's with Preppy," Santana continued when Carson didn't say anything. "You look like you've been stabbed in the gut with a rusty pair of scissors. It would be totally heartbreaking, if I had a heart. And do _not_ bother denying it," she added when Carson opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong. "Aunty Tana is never wrong about these things."

Carson gave up. He crossed over to the classroom door and closed it before walking back and sinking into the chair nearest to Santana. In a way, it felt kind of good to be in the company of someone who knew his deepest, darkest secret. Not only knew it, but didn't ultimately seem to be judging him for it. Still, that didn't mean he wanted to actually _talk_ about it. He had to be careful. He had a guard up that needed to stay up, or else his feelings were going to kill him.

"You know what?" he said after another minute of silence. "You're right. I...I have _feelings_ for Kurt, and they're not exactly brotherly. But you know, it doesn't really fucking matter, does it? Because he's never going to feel the same way. So can you just drop it? Please?"

Santana frowned. "Are you sure? Because-"

"Santana." Carson gave her a pleading look. "Please. _Please_ drop it."

Santana closed her mouth and nodded. "Ok, ok, geez. But I just want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to, if you ever want to. Or, you know...if you ever need a favor," she added with a wink. "Really, if you ever need someone to push that showboating, bowtie humping muppet off a cliff, I'm totally your girl."

Carson smiled in spite of himself. "Thanks, Satan."

"Any time." She got up from the desk and patted him on the shoulder before heading in the direction of the door. And then Carson was hit with an idea.

"Hey, Santana, wait," he said. She stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. "Maybe there _is_ something you can do for me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh god, you're not going to ask me to blow you or something, are you? Fuck that, that's not part of the deal."

Carson made a disgusted face. "Ugh, please. I'm so _not_ into you like that, trust me. I'd rather jack off with Freddy Krueger's glove. No, I was going to say...you're the head Cheerio and have influence over all the _other_ Cheerios, correct?"

She crossed her arms and stared at him. "Yeah, why?"

Carson smiled. "Not sure why I'm trusting _you _with this information, but I've had to resort to...shall we say..._drastic_ means to get my literary submissions. If you could help me out a little by getting the Cheerios to write, that would be a big favor."

She considered him for a second and then nodded. "Fine. I owe you one, so I'll do it. But I'm gonna need you to go back to "drastic," because my alter ego Snixx is now thoroughly intrigued. What, have you been blackmailing people into writing for you or something?"

The shocked look Carson wasn't fast enough to mask told her everything she needed to know. "Santana, I swear to god, if you tell _anyone_, I will-"

"Oh my _God_, Hummel, calm the fuck down. I already know that you want to fuck your brother, I'm not going to tell. Truth be told, I love it! You and I are more alike than I thought," answered Santana, a gleam in her eye.

He ignored the reference to Kurt and gave her a tentative smile. "Yeah, I guess maybe we are...hey," he said, hitting upon another idea. "You can do me another favor to make up for the pain and suffering you've caused with your very insensitive jokes."

"Do you need my help blackmailing anyone? Because I am _so_ in," she answered. "Seriously, this is, like, what I was born for. Please tell me Finn is on your list, because nothing would delight me more than getting that fuckwaffle under my control."

Carson shook his head. "No, not right now. But the hobbit is. And I can't find anything on him. I've been searching the internet for days."

Santana held out a hand to silence him. "Say no more, Hummel, I'm on it." She left the classroom then, leaving Carson sitting there trying to absorb what the hell had just happened. Had he just made friends and formed an alliance with Santana Lopez, of all people?

Yep. He had. And it felt really weird.

It still felt weird when he saw her in English class later that day, where she gave him a wink that caused Kurt to glare at her and practically climb into Carson's lap (not that he was complaining about that, because _hello_), and again when he walked past her in the gym that afternoon on his way to sit next to his dad for the student body president debate. He had given Kurt a quick hug for luck before Kurt went to sit with the other candidates, and the raised eyebrow and smirk Santana had given him from her seat in the bleachers had not escaped his attention.

"Hey, kiddo," said Burt as Carson sat beside him. "Excited for your brother?"

Carson nodded, fiddling with his Vote For Kurt button on his hoodie. "Uh-huh. And nervous. I really want him to win this election. It's so important to him, and he needs it."

Burt patted him on the shoulder. "He'll do fine, kid."

The first candidate up was some guy on the hockey team who apparently had replaced Karofsky as the resident Neanderthal of McKinley. Carson wasn't even sure when the hell he had started running for president, but he was quite sure that nobody would vote for him. Then came Brittany with her lofty campaign promise to ban tornadoes at McKinley (what the _fuck_?), and then it was Kurt's turn. Besides Carson, Burt, Finn, and Blaine, only a handful of other people applauded for him when he stood up.

_Assholes_, thought Carson.

Kurt made an impassioned speech about banning dodgeball because it encouraged violence and bullying. Carson had heard the speech before, since Kurt had practiced it on him the night before, but seeing him deliver it so earnestly with a microphone in his hand made Carson feel so proud of him.

_You can do it, baby_, he thought adoringly. He could feel the smile spreading on his face and knew he must look like such a lovesick fool right now, but whatever. Nobody was looking at him. Well, almost nobody. He did catch his dad looking at him oddly out of the corner of his eye and quickly threw his gaze to his shoes, but was the first one on his feet to applaud when Kurt finished.

"Go Kurt!" he shouted. He caught Blaine turning around to give him the side-eye from his seat, and Carson gave him a wide, cheesy grin. He wasn't going to let the hobbit spoil his good mood. Which only turned into a better mood when Rachel got up to make her speech and Carson heard the very last words he ever expected to come out of her mouth.

"I hereby withdraw my candidacy and urge you all to vote for Kurt Hummel," she said. "He's the only candidate here today who never went negative. He's the one who deserves to be president. That's why I'm casting my vote for Kurt Hummel. Vote Hummel, McKinley. Vote for Kurt."

_This feels really weird_, thought Carson as everyone around him started clapping. _I've never felt like NOT killing Trollberry before. Oh god, it kind of burns._

He raced over to Kurt as soon as the debate was over, throwing his arms around him and hugging him tight. "Kurtsie! You're practically guaranteed to win now!" he exclaimed.

"I can't win anything if you crush my windpipe," squeaked Kurt with a laugh. Carson loosened his grip and grinned at him.

"Sorry. I'm just so proud!" he said, patting Kurt gently on the cheek. "You're gonna win, and we're going to celebrate _so hard_."

Blaine strode up to them then, practically wedging himself between Carson and Kurt and giving Kurt a hug of his own. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart," he said in the deceiving "bashful schoolboy" voice he always used around Kurt, but which didn't fool Carson a bit. "Early celebratory coffee at the Lima Bean? Just the two of us?" he asked, obviously intending that last part to be directed at Carson. Kurt looked between them uncomfortably.

"Oh, um..I..." he stammered. Carson decided to make it easy on him and shrugged, patting Kurt on the shoulder.

"Go ahead," he said. "I have stuff to do for the paper, anyway." He gave Blaine a hard stare before turning around and heading out of the gym before he could strangle him. He caught Santana's eye on his way out. She looked at him with sympathy and made a slicing motion across her throat with her finger, nodding her head in Blaine's direction. Carson smiled. Maybe it was going to be good to have a friend in Santana.

He quickly cornered Claire Mathews and Coach Walker on his way out of school to hand them flyers, since he already happened to have dirt on them and didn't want it to go to waste. He didn't really need to blackmail Claire since Santana was going to take care of the Cheerios, but he figured he may as well. Coach Walker was going to be in charge of getting the football team to write for the magazine. At least things were beginning to shape up, even if he did have to put up with Blaine.

* * *

Carson practically skipped down the hallway toward the choir room the next day at lunch, a feeling of accomplishment filling him with every step. It was turning out to be quite a good day indeed. To start with, while making copies of a poster he had designed to advertise the publication of the literary magazine, he had accidentally obtained a new blackmail victim that morning in the form of Emilio, the foreign exchange student in his journalism class who, as it turned out, wasn't quite so foreign. He'd been happily handed a yellow flyer in exchange for Carson's silence over the fact that he was from San Diego and not El Salvador and spoke perfect English.

Now, Carson was on his way to have some words with Mr. Schuester thanks to a little something he had overheard the night before while he was waiting at the kitchen table with his laptop for Kurt to get home from the hobbit's house. He wasn't waiting in the living room like he normally would because Finn and Rachel were in there being obnoxious and disgusting, and Rachel was whining about how much she was going to miss the glee club once she graduated.

"It's been my home for three years," she was saying. "It'll be like leaving my family."

"I know," said Finn. "And it's so weird to think that I would never even have joined at all if Mr. Schue hadn't found that pot in my locker. I mean, I still have no idea how that got in there, but hey, it got me into glee club. I would have missed out on all of it."

Carson's ears had perked up immediately. What was this fuckery? He was completely inclined to believe Finn when he said he had no idea how pot had gotten into his locker. After all, he wasn't Dwayne. And he was also completely stupid and very, _very _trusting. And glee had been extremely hard up for members at that time. Was it possible that Mr. Schue had blackmailed Finn into glee and that Finn still had no idea?

_Well, well, well_, thought Carson, smiling at his laptop. _Guess I'll be blackmailing a blackmailer AND getting submissions from the entire glee club_.

He reached the choir room and strolled right on in, making his way into Mr. Schue's office and settling himself in a chair across from his desk. He smiled wide and waited for Mr. Schue to look up and notice him.

"Can I help you, Carson?" asked Mr. Schue.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you can," said Carson sweetly. He settled back in his chair and folded his arms across his stomach. "You can help me get submissions for my literary magazine from the entire glee club, and you can do it as soon as possible."

Mr. Schue frowned. "I'd like to help you, Carson, but I don't know if I can."

Carson smiled wider. "Oh, I think you can. In fact, I believe you have no choice, unless you want me going to Figgins. I'm sure he would be very interested in learning that a teacher...that would be you, by the way...essentially framed and blackmailed a student into joining glee club several years ago by planting marijuana on him. Wow, I wonder what would happen to that teacher if someone were to tell."

He knew he was taking a gamble, because he didn't actually have any proof that this was true other than Finn's word, but the way Mr. Schue's face immediately turned about fifteen shades of pale spoke volumes. _Aha. I was totally right._

"What was that about literary submissions?" asked Mr. Schue. Carson smiled and gave him his instructions before getting up and exiting the office, unable to contain the bubbling excitement in his stomach. _I'm unstoppable. I'm going to Northwestern, and fucking nobody is stopping me_.

He entered the journalism classroom and retrieved his and Malerie's "Limagate" board from its hiding place behind his desk. He was proud of himself. The only picture not blacked out with a Sharpied X was Blaine's. In other words, just like in real life, he was the one dark spot on Carson's good mood.

He heard footsteps approaching the classroom and quickly hid the board back behind the desk. He looked up just in time to see Santana storming excitedly into the room, her ponytail swinging behind her as she closed the door and brandished a piece of paper in the air.

"I can't stay long," she said, striding up to his desk. "I've been called into Coach Sylvester's office for some mysterious reason, but I have a present for you." She slapped the paper she was holding down onto Carson's desk, and Carson peered at it carefully. The paper turned out to be a photograph of a guy with an unruly mane of dark, curly hair, taken at some sort of party, judging by all the people in the background holding red party cups. He was wearing nothing but a pair of extremely tight underwear and a pair of boots, and he was rubbing his nipple with one hand while giving the camera the middle finger with the other. Carson stared at it and then back at Santana.

"What the hell is that?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and jabbed one manicured finger into the picture.

"Look closer," she said. "Does he look familiar to you?"

Carson did as she said and gasped when he realized what she was getting at. He hadn't paid much attention to the guy's face before, but now that he was, there was no denying who was in the photo. He'd recognize those eyebrows anywhere.

"Is that...oh my _fuck_!" he exclaimed. "Oh my god, eew, I'm traumatized! Where the hell did you find this?"

Santana smiled. "You'd be surprised how handy I am at hacking," she said nonchalantly. "Hobbit left his laptop unattended in the library yesterday, and it literally only took me, like, two minutes to uncover all his secret files. And that's not the only picture, either," she added, handing him a flash drive. "I recommend you take a sedative before you look through these. Some of them involve that underwear almost coming off." Carson almost dry-heaved as he took the flash drive from her. "Anyway," she continued, "I thought you might want to use them for, you know...literary submission obtaining purposes."

Carson tore his eyes away from the horrible photo on his desk and looked at her. "Wow, Santana, um...I...thanks," he said awkwardly. He never had been good at thanking people for things.

"Any time," she said, giving him a small smile, which he returned.

"Hey, Carsey, I've come to escort you to English class...oh...Santana...you're here," said Kurt, who had just walked into the classroom in time to see Carson and Santana smiling at each other. Carson quickly shoved the photo of Blaine and the flash drive into his bag and threw the bag over his shoulder, crossing over to Kurt and slinging one arm around him.

"Yeah, she was just helping me with...with something for the magazine," Carson said carefully. He felt Kurt stiffen and his hand wrap around Carson's waist tightly.

"Oh," said Kurt, his mouth set in a line. "That's nice. Come on, Carson, we're going to be late for class." He threw a bitch face in Santana's direction before practically marching Carson out of the classroom. Carson's mood was sky high. Not only was Kurt being clingy, which he loved, but now he had something with which to blackmail the hobbit. He couldn't _wait_ to get him alone later.

He ended up having to wait until much later that afternoon, and very nearly forgot altogether after the Troubletones had performed a mashup for the New Directions in the auditorium, which had ended in Santana jumping angrily off the stage and slapping the shit out of Finn for reasons that Carson wasn't entirely clear on, but it had been a very loud, epic slap nonetheless. Carson had started clapping when she did it, until Kurt grabbed his hands and gently forced them back down.

"What was that about?" he whispered to Kurt.

"I don't know," answered Kurt with a shrug as Santana stormed out of the auditorium. "Shouldn't you know? Isn't she, like, your new best friend or something?"

Carson raised his eyebrows. "Are you jealous, Kurtsie?" he asked teasingly.

"_No_," said Kurt quickly. "I'm just...protective." Carson grinned.

The club began to file out of the auditorium before Carson remembered the photo in his bag and his stomach did a flip of excitement. He took a deep breath and tapped Blaine on the shoulder while Kurt was distracted talking to Mercedes.

"Hey, Blair, can we talk?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice as nice as possible. "Alone?" Blaine looked at him suspiciously, his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed together.

"What for?" he asked.

"Reasons," answered Carson, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to a quiet corner near the exit doors. He rooted around in his bag until he found the photo, pulling it out and smoothing it before showing it to Blaine. Blaine's face grew pale and his eyes widened. He tried to grab it out of Carson's hand, but Carson snatched it away.

"I almost didn't recognize you at first," said Carson, glancing disgustedly at the photo and then back to Blaine. "You know, what with the lack of hair gel and bowties. I don't even want to know what kind of depraved, drunken orgy you were attending when this picture was taken. I just want you to know that I have it."

"Where the hell did you find that?" Blaine asked in a panicked whisper, looking around nervously.

"I don't reveal my sources," Carson replied sweetly, "But suffice it to say that I have a whole flash drive full of these at my disposal and will not hesitate to post them all over the internet unless you do what I say."

Blaine glared at him. "If you're going to tell me to stay away from Kurt, you can fucking forget it, _Carsey_," he said mockingly. "There's no way in hell I'm going to do that."

Carson smiled. "No, Billy, don't be stupid. You dumping Kurt would break his heart. I'm not going to ask you to do that because I'm waiting patiently for the day that Kurt realizes you're an asshole and leaves you himself. What I actually want from you is your words."

"My words?" asked Blaine, confused.

Carson nodded. "For the literary magazine. I don't give a shit what you write. Write about the history of bowties for all I give a fuck, but you need to write something, and it needs to be in my hands as soon as possible. Or," he said, brandishing the photo, "This and all the rest of the pictures go viral."

Blaine cast his eyes on the ceiling and heaved a huge sigh. "I hate you," he said.

"Likewise, hobbit breath," answered Carson. "Get writing this weekend, or else." He stuffed the picture back into his bag and hurried over to Kurt, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before heading off to visit Grandma. Life was going so well for once, other than the fact that Kurt was still dating Santa's favorite elf.

* * *

"Blaine..._mmm_...Blaine, we're supposed to be doing _homework_," protested Kurt, only halfheartedly pushing Blaine away from him as he tried to concentrate on his Algebra book. They were at Kurt's house, in Kurt and Carson's room, which Kurt hadn't been sure about since either Carson or his dad could come home at any time, but he had figured Blaine could surely keep his hands and his lips to himself for an hour or two. Apparently, he had been wrong. Blaine grinned and leaned back in, pressing his lips to Kurt's neck and sucking hard. Kurt gasped.

"Blaine," he giggled. "Blaine, come on. No."

"Kuuuurt," Blaine whined, continuing to assault his neck. "Come on, I want you." He tossed Kurt's book down onto the floor and leaned his body over Kurt's until he had Kurt laying beneath him, his lips all over Kurt's neck and his hands roaming everywhere they could reach.

"Blaine...B-blaine...Blaine, we _can't_," Kurt gasped as he felt Blaine's hands starting to lift his shirt up. "We really can't. Carson could come home soon, and-" His words were cut off by Blaine's lips as they sucked his into a rough, bruising kiss.

"He won't be home for _hours_," Blaine protested when he finally pulled his lips off Kurt's. "He's probably working on the paper or that magazine. We could be done before he even knows." He slipped his hand under Kurt's shirt and danced his fingers along the flesh of Kurt's stomach before teasing them at the top of his pants. Kurt bit his lip. He could feel himself hardening as Blaine pressed one thigh between his legs.

"Blaine, _no," _he said, trying unsuccessfully to push Blaine off. Blaine refused to budge.

"Please?" Blaine begged. Kurt sighed and gave up.

"Ok," he said reluctantly, praying that Carson would be busy all afternoon. "Fine, ok. But we have to be quick. If my dad comes home before Carson, you _will_ be killed."

Blaine grinned wolfishly and leaned down for one more kiss.

* * *

Carson trudged up the driveway and rolled his eyes at the sight of Blaine's car parked there. Great. That was all he fucking needed right now.

His perfect day he had been having from all his blackmail success had turned sour as soon as he'd entered Grandma's room that afternoon. He'd been able to tell from the look on her face that it wasn't going to be one of her better days, but he'd hoped she would share in his excitement anyway. No such luck. Barely two sentences had left his mouth before she was yelling at him to get out.

He'd considered going back to the school to work on the paper, but a sudden sick feeling in his stomach had made him decide against that. He hoped he wasn't coming down with a stomach flu or something. He had to be in top shape tomorrow when he had his little meeting with all his victims.

He let himself into the house, his key unnecessary since Kurt and Blaine had left the door unlocked, and entered the living room, expecting to find them on the couch watching TV or something. They weren't there. Carson glanced into the kitchen and frowned. They weren't there, either.

"Kurt?" he called. He wandered through the entire first floor, finding nothing but empty rooms. "Kurt?"

A loud noise and what sounded like moaning coming from upstairs startled him, and he immediately started up the stairs, wondering what the hell his brother and the hobbit were up to and hoping he wasn't about to walk in on them making out or something.

No, as it turned out, that wasn't it. It was worse. It was much, much worse.

He stood stock still in his and Kurt's bedroom doorway, wanting desperately to not be seeing what he was seeing, which was Kurt on the bed, on his back, facing away from him and Blaine on top of him, both of them completely naked as Blaine bounced energetically up and down on Kurt's dick.

Carson couldn't move. He wanted to...he desperately wanted to...but he just couldn't make his legs move. He was rooted to the spot for several long seconds, feeling like he had just swallowed a thousand knives as he watched his brother, whom he loved, in all ways, more than life itself, fucking Blaine, the person he despised more than anyone else. And enjoying it very much, judging by the moans and quiet cursing coming from Kurt's mouth. Carson just wanted to cry.

And the worst part was that Blaine chose that moment to look over at him and catch his eye. He didn't seem all that startled to see him. In fact, he didn't slow down his movements or vocally acknowledge Carson at all, and as far as Kurt knew, Carson wasn't even there. But Blaine looked him right in the eye and he smirked. He fucking _smirked_. And then he let out a very loud moan and leaned down to kiss Kurt's mouth as he continued riding him. That was when Carson finally found the will to turn around and leave. His nausea from earlier returned with a vengeance and the last thing he heard before he raced downstairs to the bathroom was Blaine gasping and moaning Kurt's name.

He shut himself into the bathroom and fell to his knees, grasping at the toilet just in time to vomit violently into it. He threw up for what felt like hours, and when he was done he collapsed onto the bathroom floor, curling up into a ball and covering his ears with his hands to block out the sound of the moaning and the shaking bed from upstairs. And he let go, crying harder than he had ever cried in his life and seriously wondering if he was having a heart attack, because his chest really hurt right now. He cried until he didn't have any tears left, and then he got up slowly from the floor, peering carefully at his face in the mirror. He looked like absolute shit. He ran the water and splashed some on his face before rinsing out his mouth and examining his eyes closely. They were so bloodshot he thought maybe they would stay that way. Not that he really gave a shit right now.

He realized that he hadn't heard any moaning for several minutes, so he exited the bathroom and used all the strength he had left in him to shuffle into the kitchen, where he sat in a chair and stared blankly at the bowl of fruit in the center. He felt empty and alone. Broken. He wondered if he would ever feel right again. He might never get over what he had just seen.

He heard muffled voices from upstairs, and then footsteps bounding down the stairs as Blaine emerged, looking quite pleased with himself as he adjusted his bowtie.

"See you, Carson!" he called cheerfully, flashing Carson an evil smile before letting himself out the front door. Carson clenched his fists, but otherwise didn't move or react at all. He sat there for several more minutes, staring at that fruit bowl and thinking dark, murderous thoughts about Blaine until he heard a second set of footsteps coming down the stairs and felt, rather than saw, Kurt enter the kitchen.

"Carson!" he exclaimed in surprise. "You...you're home early." He sounded nervous. He clearly hadn't expected Carson to be there. Carson hoped not, anyway. "Are you ok?" he asked. Carson couldn't bring himself to answer him. He was afraid if he opened his mouth to speak, he would throw up again. Or worse, start crying.

"Carson?" asked Kurt. He drew closer, and Carson tensed up as he felt his hands on his shoulders. "Carsey?"

Carson's volcano of hurt, pain, and anger exploded in him then and he let out a huge breath. "Maybe you should start washing the sheets from our bed," he snapped. "I don't particularly feel like sleeping tonight in a bed where you and your hobbit boyfriend have just fucked like horny rabbits, so _please_. Change the damn sheets, that's all I ask."

He heard Kurt suck in a breath behind him. "C-carson, I-"

"Actually, come to think of it, maybe it's time we got separate beds," Carson continued, hating himself for being so sharp with Kurt, but he couldn't help it. He had absolutely no control over his emotions right now. "If you're going to fuck him on a daily basis, then it would probably be easier than you having to do so much laundry. We should get used to sleeping apart anyway."

Kurt's breaths behind him were coming out in shaky gasps, but he didn't say anything. He stood there for a minute before he walked out of the kitchen without a word, and Carson closed his eyes, instantly wishing he could take back everything he had just said. He wanted to follow Kurt and hug him and tell him that of course he didn't mean it and he loved him and he wasn't mad at him, not really. But he couldn't. His body wouldn't allow it.

He stayed at the table for a long time, pretending to be engrossed in his laptop while he listened to Kurt doing laundry. He glared at Finn when the other boy came home and asked what was up, and he quickly escaped upstairs when he heard his dad come home, not wanting to see or talk to anyone. He just wanted to go to bed, which was what he did. He noticed that Kurt had changed the sheets, but he still couldn't stop himself from remembering what he had witnessed happening on that bed earlier, and it took all his strength not to throw up again. He changed into pajama pants and a T-shirt and crawled into bed, curling up on his side and wishing for the whole world to just melt away. It would be easier than having to feel things.

After awhile he heard Kurt come into the bedroom and start his facial routine. He ached to call out to him and apologize for snapping, but he still couldn't. He was afraid he would cry if he tried, and he couldn't ever cry in front of Kurt. That was one of his rules. Kurt finished and Carson felt him climb into bed beside him. He knew his twin was staring at him without even having to turn around.

"Carson?" he whispered. "Carson, are you asleep?" Carson didn't answer him. "C-carson, I.." He tried to wrap his arms around Carson, but Carson recoiled away from him. "I'm sorry, Carson," he said quietly before sighing and settling on his side. "Goodnight." It was the first time Carson could ever remember that they fell asleep facing away from each other and not touching.

He woke up several hours later, knowing even before he opened his eyes that Kurt was gone. He turned around to face Kurt's side of the bed and found it empty, just as he had suspected.

_Fuck, he must be sleepwalking_, Carson thought sleepily, getting up and padding out of the room. He eventually found Kurt in the kitchen, standing in front of the table and whining low in his throat.

"Carsey?" he was saying as Carson approached him from behind. "Carsey, please? Please talk to me, I'm sorry! Please?"

Carson felt like a complete asshole. He closed the distance between himself and Kurt and gently gripped his twin around the waist, giving him a soft kiss on the ear. "Kurtsie, I'm here. I'm here, baby, I'm here." He wrapped his arms around Kurt's chest in a bear hug and held him close. "I'm here, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Come on, let's get you back to bed, ok?" He let go of Kurt and grabbed his hand, gently leading him back up the stairs and into bed. He crawled in beside him and wrapped him in his arms as he covered the side of his sleeping twin's face in soft kisses.

"I'm sorry, Kurtsie. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, baby," he whispered. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's not your fault I'm fucked up." He kissed Kurt's temple one more time before settling down into his pillow and drifting off into a restless sleep.

* * *

Kurt stared out the window of Blaine's car as they drove to school the next morning, feeling lower than he had ever felt in his life. He was still trying to process the fact that Carson had heard him and Blaine having sex the day before. Every time he thought about it, he felt a tidal wave of guilt start to consume him, and he had to quickly think of something else to get rid of it. He flashed back to the middle of the night. He must have had a sleepwalking episode, because he vaguely remembered drifting in and out of consciousness as Carson led him back into bed. He had woken up fully right as Carson was kissing him, and it had felt so good to know that his twin wasn't angry with him that he had pretended to stay asleep.

"It's not your fault I'm fucked up," Carson had said right before he went back to sleep. Kurt sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"Are you ok, Kurt?" asked Blaine as they stopped at a red light. "You've been quiet."

Kurt nodded. "I'm fine, Blaine. It's nothing. I'm just tired."

Blaine looked at him carefully. "Come on, Kurt. Something's bothering you."

"It's nothing. Forget it."

"Kurt, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't drag it out of you so I can help you?" Blaine persisted. Kurt sighed in frustration.

"Carson heard us having sex yesterday, ok? Are you happy now?" he asked irritably, turning back to face the window.

"Oh," said Blaine. "I, um...I know."

Kurt looked at him incredulously. "You _know_?"

Blaine nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I...I kind of saw him when he walked in on us, and.."

Kurt couldn't breathe. "He walked in?"

Blaine nodded, looking uncomfortable. Kurt suddenly felt even more like crap than he had just a minute earlier. Not only had Carson heard them, he had _seen_ them. No wonder he had been so upset. _Oh god, Carson, I'm so sorry, oh my god..._

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Kurt demanded.

"Well, then you would have wanted to stop," said Blaine. "And I was really close, and so were you. But, you know, it's not that big a deal. He left the room and let us finish, didn't he?"

Kurt wasn't sure whether to be pissed or wonder if his boyfriend was suffering brain damage. "Blaine Devon Anderson, I cannot freaking believe that you didn't _tell me_ that someone, anyone, _let alone my brother_, walked in on us fucking. What is _wrong_ with you?"

Blaine gave him the wounded puppy look he always gave him when Kurt was less than thrilled with him. "Come on, Kurt, don't be mad at me for wanting to finish having sex with my hot boyfriend."

"Compliments will get you nowhere," said Kurt, crossing his arms. "You should have said something."

Blaine sighed. "Ok, alright, I'm sorry. Next time someone walks in on us having sex I will exclaim in surprise. Better?"

Kurt looked down at his shoes and shrugged. "I guess."

"Hey, chin up, ok?" said Blaine as he pulled into the student parking lot. "We have to sing for Santana today and we need to be peppy and happy."

Kurt groaned. He'd forgotten about that. Finn was getting a headstart on his own idea for "Lady Music Week" to help Santana accept herself or something. Which Kurt thought was pretty rich of him, considering that Finn was the entire reason that Santana was being forced out of the closet, but whatever. The last thing Kurt felt like doing today was singing to Santana, of all people, let alone a duet with Blaine in front of Carson mere hours after Carson had apparently had an eyeful of them having sex. "Ugh, I don't feel like it. Let's just tell Finn we'll do it on Monday."

Blaine shook his head. "We have to sing, Kurt, we promised. I already picked out my best performance bowtie and everything."

"I don't want to, Blaine."

Blaine shrugged. "You already promised."

Kurt sighed. "Fine." Maybe if he was lucky, this would be one of the days that Carson skipped glee., He did do that a lot.

No such luck. He was sitting right there in the front of the choir room when Kurt and Blaine walked in that afternoon, looking carefully down at the floor. Kurt was pretty relieved to see him, actually, because he hadn't seen him all day except in English class. He had wanted to go look for him at lunch, figuring he was probably in the journalism classroom, but Blaine had wanted to practice their song one more time before the glee meeting, and Kurt thought it was easier just to go along with it than have to listen to Blaine whine later that he hadn't had enough practice time.

Kurt sat down beside Carson and took his hand, squeezing gently and suddenly dreading the rest of this glee meeting.

Finn got up and made a speech to Santana, and then called Blaine and Kurt up to the front of the room. Blaine bounded out of his seat and Kurt sullenly followed him, desperately wishing to be anywhere but where he was.

"Santana," said Blaine, "Kurt and I have a song we like to sing to each other in the car, and we wanna sing that for you right now." Kurt glanced quickly over at Carson, who looked stricken at what Blaine had just said. _Damn it Blaine, did you HAVE to say that we sing it in the car?_

"While there's nothing I'd love more than having two Pretty Ponies serenade me, I think we'd get further staging a gel-ervention for Blaine than singing lady music," replied Santana dully.

"I know it's hard," said Kurt. "It was hard for me, too. But you can get through this."

"If you would just stop being so defensive," added Blaine. Carson rolled his eyes.

"I'm trying," said Santana. "But your hideous bowties are provoking me." Kurt didn't miss the subtle smile that flitted briefly across Carson's mouth, and he tried extremely hard to tell himself that he had no right to feel jealous about that. He and Blaine started singing, and Kurt had to make a conscious effort not to look at Carson during the song, because the few glimpses he did catch of his twin's face made him feel like a complete jerk. He was never more relieved in his life than he was when the song finally ended.

"Good job," said Mr. Schue. "How about that?"

Santana glanced briefly at Carson with an odd, unreadable look on her face before she turned back to Kurt and Blaine and smiled. "Thank you, guys. Thank you Finn, especially. You know, with all the horrible crap I've been through in my life, now I get to add that!" She punctuated her words with a sarcastic clap as Carson got up from his seat and left the choir room. He didn't return for the entire rest of the glee meeting, and when it finally let out, Kurt explained to Blaine that he was going to go find him and he would see Blaine over the weekend. Blaine had sighed, but nodded and gave him a long kiss before heading home. Kurt smiled sadly after him. His boyfriend really did put up with a lot from him, and Kurt was grateful that he tried to be so patient and loving about it.

He wandered the halls until he reached the journalism classroom, getting ready to open the closed door until he realized that it was full of people. There were a few members of the student council, plus Carson's journalism team, and the assistant football coach, sitting in desks and looking wide-eyed at Carson, who was standing in the front of the room with Malerie and apparently yelling at his small audience.

_What the hell is going on in there?_ he wondered, carefully cracking the door open a bit so he could hear.

"I have nothing to lose and a whole hell of a lot to gain, and this time, none of you are stopping me!" Carson was yelling. He looked for all the world like an angry teacher standing in front of the desk like that, and Kurt would be lying if he said that wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"Need some examples?" Carson continued angrily. "Here are some examples!" He grabbed a stack of papers off the desk and started throwing them at the people sitting in the desks in front of him. "Poetry, short stories, essays, scripts, novels, _anything_! As long as it's in your words and in my hands ASAP! Write about how much you hate me! Write in detail about how much you want to kill me. Ok? Now GET THE HELL OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!" he bellowed, pointing toward the door, his chest heaving with rage. Kurt scurried back as everyone poured out of the classroom, including Malerie, leaving Carson alone with his heaving chest and Kurt alone with his fantasy of Carson hoisting him up on that desk and having his way with him.

He took a deep breath to collect himself before he walked into the classroom, giving Carson a tentative smile. Carson caught his eye and smiled back.

"I'm sorry I missed the rest of glee," said Carson quickly. "I had, um...business."

Kurt nodded. "I don't know what all this was about, but it was...I mean, you were great."

Carson laughed. "Let's just say I found a way to get my submissions."

"So the magazine, that's a go, then?" asked Kurt. Carson nodded and Kurt grinned. "Good," he said. "I'm so happy for you." He crossed over to Carson and gave him a hug, trying to pour out how sorry he was for the previous day into it and hoping Carson could feel it.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered. He felt Carson hug him just a little bit tighter at that.

"Thank you," he replied.

* * *

"God, I feel like a lamb waiting in line to be slaughtered," Kurt was saying as Carson walked out of the voting booth and up to where his twin stood with Finn and Rachel. It was the day of the student body president elections, and Carson could only imagine how nervous Kurt felt, because he was nervous enough for the both of them. He had just finished casting his vote for Kurt (sealing the ballot with a kiss, of course), and he could only hope that the rest of the student body recognized a viable candidate when they saw one. And that everyone he had blackmailed made good on their promises to vote for Kurt.

"Chin up, Kurt," said Finn. "It's not over until all the votes are counted,"

"Yep," agreed Rachel. "And you're going to get loads. Look, Quinn is going into the voting booth right now. She's definitely going to vote for you."

Carson wasn't so sure about that, actually, considering that Quinn was batshit insane and had spent the entire school year so far trying to get back the baby she had given up for adoption two years ago. Carson kept meaning to ask her if she really thought that was how adoption worked, but he always forgot. And he didn't really care. He didn't say any of this, though. He just smiled reassuringly at Kurt and squeezed his hand.

"You'll win, Kurt. I promise," he said. "You're the best candidate, after all." Kurt let out a deep breath and squeezed his hand back.

"Thanks, Carsey," he said. "I hope so."

Carson was nervous for the entire rest of the school day wondering if the votes had been counted yet. He knew logically that if people voted with their brains, Kurt should win, but he was still apprehensive. The school had its fair share of morons who he could easily see voting for Brittany.

_They better fucking not have_, he thought as he made his way to the choir room for glee club. _They just better not. _He hadn't made it a habit to regularly attend glee ever since Kurt and Blaine had sung "Perfect" with each other, because it hurt too much to see them sitting together and generally acting all couply the whole time. He got enough of that at home on the weekends. He didn't need it at school, too. He decided to attend today, though, because they were going to announce the winner of the election any time now and Carson wanted to be with Kurt when he won.

He was still trying to decide whether to laugh or cry at the girls' rendition of "I Kissed A Girl" when Figgins walked into the choir room, looking solemn.

"Excuse me, New Directions and Troubletones singing group," he said, interrupting Santana's announcement that she had finally come out to her parents. "Mr. Kurt Hummel, I need to see you in my office immediately."

Kurt looked nervous as hell as he got up from his seat to follow Figgins out the door. Carson grabbed his own bag and got up to follow them. Whatever this was about, he would be damned if Kurt went through it alone.

"Carson, what do you think this is about?" Kurt whispered nervously as they followed Figgins to his office. "Do you think I won? Do they do that, when you win? Have a private meeting?"

Carson shook his head. "Not that I know of, but I'm sure this is nothing." They entered Figgins' office, where Beiste was waiting for them, along with their dad.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" asked Carson as he and Kurt stood side by side across from Figgins' desk. He was definitely sure they never usually called your parents in to the principal's office if there was _nothing_ wrong.

"I have no idea," replied Burt, shrugging. "I'm waiting for them to tell me."

"First of all, Mr. Hummel, congratulations on your early exit poll numbers," said Figgins as he sat down at his desk. "Things are looking very good indeed for you."

"Thank you, Figgins," said Burt. "Now, can you tell me why I'm here today?"

"There seems to have been some irregularities with the student council ballot boxes," said Figgins.

"What do you mean by 'irregularities'?" asked Kurt, clearly nervous. Carson took his hand and held tight.

"Kurt won," said Beiste. "But by 190 votes."

"Well, that's great. Right?" asked Burt. Carson swallowed. He was sure now that this wasn't good.

"Well, the problem is that there's more ballots than there are students," replied Beiste, "And Kurt won by a suspiciously wide margin."

"No!" said Kurt. "I..I...I didn't do it. I didn't cheat!"

"Of course he didn't cheat!" exclaimed Carson. "This is crap, he would never do that. There has to be some mistake."

"I didn't cheat," Kurt repeated, sounding desperate now. "I mean, I thought about it, but-"

"What do you mean you thought about it?" asked Burt. Kurt looked to Carson for help.

"I...I thought about it because I wanted to win so badly and I was worried I wouldn't, but I didn't cheat! I worked really hard on this! Carson," he said pleadingly. Carson squeezed his hand and glared at Beiste.

"He didn't cheat," Carson insisted. "Please, there's got to be a mix-up here. I know he didn't do it. Can't we re-hold the election or something?"

Beiste and Figgins looked at him solemnly. "I'm afraid that if we can prove that your brother had something to do with stuffing the ballot boxes, I'm going to have to suspend him and put it on his permanent record," said Figgins. Kurt gasped, horrified. Carson shook his head furiously.

"No, no you can't do that to him, because he _didn't do it!_" he insisted. "Why don't you go try and find the real culprit, because it is NOT him! We're done here," he said, dragging Kurt out of the office and not caring what Figgins or Beiste or his father had to say about it. He was so pissed he couldn't even see straight. What kind of fucking jackass had done this? This was Kurt's last chance to get a big ticket item on his college application, and some asshole had blown it for him. It wasn't fucking fair.

"Carson," said Kurt as Carson pulled him along the hallway. "Carson, stop." Carson stopped in his tracks and let go of Kurt's hand, beginning to angrily pace the hall.

"They can't do this," he muttered. "They can't do that to you. It's not fair. We're going to find them. We're going to find the asshole who did this, and we're going to make them pay. I'm so sick of this school and its bullshit." He placed his hands on Kurt's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I promise you, Kurt, I'm not going to let them suspend you, and NYADA is going to take you if it's the last fucking thing I do." Kurt's bottom lip quivered and he started to cry.

"I didn't cheat," he whimpered as Carson pulled him into a tight hug.

"I know, Kurtsie. I know you didn't," he soothed. "We'll prove it somehow, ok? I don't know how, but I'll...I'll think of something."

He held Kurt for awhile until Kurt started to calm down a little, and then led him gently down the hall toward his locker, where Finn and Rachel were waiting for them.

"Someone stuffed the ballot boxes," said Kurt as they approached them. "They think I did it. If they can prove it, I could be suspended." He had started crying again on the way down the hall, and Carson put his arm comfortingly around him.

"Oh my god, Kurt-" Rachel started to say.

"And I lost," Kurt interrupted. "I lost the election, I lost the lead in _West Side Story..._I can forget about New York and NYADA, 'cause they'll never take me now. And the worst part is that I really, for a second, thought I won."

"Kurt, I'm so sorry," said Rachel, going to hug him, but he shrugged her off.

"I have to find Blaine," muttered Kurt. "He'll wonder what's happened." He shrugged himself free of Carson and patted him on the arm before heading down the hall. Carson watched him go, wanting so badly to know how to make it all better for him and having no idea how. The person he loved more than anything was under attack and in pain, and Carson felt powerless to help him. And it sucked ass. And as he held a crying Kurt in his arms that night, and as those cries turned into quiet whimpers, and as Kurt finally fell asleep and Carson lay awake for hours afterwards stroking his hair, he came to a decision. He wasn't going to let Kurt be screwed over like this. There was one thing he could think of to do, and even if it had the potential to severely hurt Carson's dreams in the process, he decided he didn't care. Kurt was more important.

Which was why he marched straight into Figgins' office at the first opportunity the next day. He planted his hands on the principal's desk, took a deep breath, and said what he had to say before he could lose his nerve.

"I did it," he said. "It was me. I stuffed the ballot box, and Kurt had absolutely nothing to do with it. So please, punish me. Suspend me, expel me, do whatever you want to me, but please let Kurt off the hook for this." Figgins looked at him grimly and folded his hands on the desk.

"Is this true, Mr. Hummel?" he asked. Carson nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "I did it. I wanted Kurt to win, so I did it. He didn't know about it."

"Carson, stop," came a voice from behind him. Carson turned around to see Rachel standing there, looking extremely nervous. "It wasn't him, Principal Figgins," she said. "It was me."

Carson gaped at her briefly before his anger overtook him and he snapped. "Ok, what the hell were you thinking?" he exploded at her. "Do you have any idea how badly you've screwed Kurt over? DO YOU? And you call yourself his friend? I hate you, Rachel. I've hated you _for years_, and now I remember WHY. I can't believe you did this to him, you selfish bi-"

"Mr. Hummel!" exclaimed Mr. Figgins. "I'm going to ask you to please remove yourself from this office so that I can deal with Ms. Berry in private. Go." He pointed toward the door and Carson went, shooting Rachel a look he hoped would kill her on his way. No such luck.

He didn't go to his next class. He headed for the journalism classroom and stayed in there the entire rest of the day, hoping that working on the paper would calm him down. It did, a little, but he was still angry as hell when he finally left, and he was still mentally planning painful, torturous ways in which to murder Rachel Fucking Berry. He hated her more at that moment than he hated Blaine, and that was really saying something.

_I hope she fucking got expelled_, he thought bitterly as he walked past the library. Through the large glass windows he could see Kurt sitting at one of the tables with Blaine standing behind him. Both of them were looking over a piece of paper that Carson knew to be Kurt's NYADA application. They looked really cozy together, even if Kurt also looked nervous as hell.

Carson didn't march in there to wedge himself in between them, as he normally would have done. He just continued on his way and headed out of the school.

* * *

Carson sighed as he entered the Lima Bean behind Kurt, with Blaine bringing up the rear. He didn't even drink coffee, and the last thing he felt like doing right now was sitting at a coffee shop table while Kurt and Blaine acted all lovey dovey. Kurt was planning to fill out a job application, though, and had asked Carson to come along for good luck.

"I'll need it," Kurt had mumbled when he'd asked Carson to come. "Since I probably won't get into NYADA, the Lima Bean is my only hope, I guess." Carson had put his arm around him and promised him he would go.

Which was why he now found himself in the busy Lima Bean, surrounded by the smell of coffee beans and various pastries and feeling sick to his stomach (although that probably had more to do with the sight of Blaine wrapping one arm around Kurt's waist in line than with the smell of the food).

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he said to Kurt after his twin had asked for a job application and was following Blaine to a table. "I'll be right back, ok?"

"Ok," replied Kurt, patting him on the shoulder. Carson headed into the restroom and locked himself in a stall, leaning against it and hoping he wouldn't throw up. He felt sick a lot when he saw Kurt and Blaine together. It was really starting to affect him, so he avoided seeing them together as much as possible. Anything to avoid the pain.

He figured after about five minutes that he wasn't going to throw up, so he exited his stall and went to wash his hands and splash some water on his face. Maybe he would feel better after that.

"Well, it's been awhile since I've seen you," said a voice. Carson turned around to find a guy staring at him with crossed arms and raised eyebrows. He was wearing a Dalton Academy uniform and somewhat reminded Carson of a meerkat. "I never thought I would see you wearing actual guy clothes, but I guess there's a first time for everything. Though I will say that those jeans do wonders for your ass."

"Excuse me?" asked Carson. "What the fuck is your problem?" The guy's green eyes gleamed mischievously.

"I don't have a problem," he replied. "No problem at all." He winked at Carson and exited the bathroom, leaving Carson wondering what the fuck had just happened.

"Weirdo," he mumbled, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Probably one of Billy Bob's weird Dalton friends." He fished his phone out and saw a text from Santana lighting up the screen.

_**How goes the magazine? -Auntie Tana**_

Carson smiled. It was going great, actually. He had pretty much gotten all his submissions, except for a few glee club members, but he didn't really care if they didn't submit, because he had a ton of writings to use. He'd even gotten Blaine's, although he was pretty sure Blaine had just given him a half-assed list of all the various hair gels he used. Whatever. He would publish it anyway.

_**It goes great. Gonna finish it up tonight. -Carson**_

He put the phone back in his pocket and headed out of the bathroom toward the table he had seen Kurt sit down at earlier. Kurt was still there, but Blaine wasn't, and the obnoxious meerkat guy from the bathroom was sitting across from Kurt, saying something that obviously was pissing Kurt off, judging by the look on his twin's face. He quickly headed over and reached the table just in time to hear the tail end of what Meerkat Guy was saying.

"And one of us has a hard luck case of the gay face, and it ain't me," he was saying as Kurt cocked his head to one side and gave him a face that would make the iciest of ice bitches proud. "Odds are, by the end of the school year, I'll have Blaine and a Nationals trophy, and you'll have khakis and a Lima Bean apron and that gay face."

"You smell like Craigslist," replied Kurt with a sarcastic smile as Carson sat down beside him.

"Ok, listen up, Timon," said Carson, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms as he looked at the guy across from him. "I don't know who the fuck you are, or what your deal is, or why you think it's acceptable to insult my brother, but either you stop right the hell now and leave, or I wipe that smirk off your face with my fist. Your choice."

The guy was gaping at him, as though impressed. "Well, what do you know, you _are_ twins. I thought Kurt was just screwing with me." He held out a hand to Carson. "Sebastian Smythe. Pleasure."

Carson glared at the hand, but didn't take it. "Carson Hummel. No it's not." He turned to Kurt, thoroughly confused. "Ok, who the fuck is the assclown?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's a pompous ass who thinks he's getting into Blaine's pants, which is never gonna happen."

Carson snorted. "You have the hots for Barnabus?" he asked Sebastian. "You're an even bigger moron than I thought."

"Aw, be nice," said Sebastian, taking a thoughtful sip from his coffee cup. "I also think you're the hot twin."

"Please get out of my sight," Kurt said through a gritted teeth smile before Carson could tell Sebastian to fuck off.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Blaine, who had returned from getting a second coffee and was sitting himself down beside Sebastian.

"Duh! The next time we're all going out drinking, killer," Sebastian replied teasingly.

"Uh-oh," said Blaine, blushing.

"Wait, what?" asked Carson. "When the hell have you been out drinking with them?" He turned to Kurt. "You've been out drinking with him?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not by choice, and I wasn't drinking," he said, patting Carson's hand. Carson wondered if this was related to the Great Gay Bar Incident.

"Well, I gotta run," said Sebastian, getting up from his seat. "But, you take care of that Warbler, Kurt," he said, indicating Blaine.

"If you really want him, you can have him," Carson quipped. "As long as you promise to keep him far, far away from us." Blaine glared at him and Sebastian smiled.

"I'll be seeing _you_ around, too," he said to Carson with a wink. Kurt looked pissed.

"I hate that guy," he mumbled, focusing on his application and practically stabbing the pen onto it.

The next few days were a busy blur for Carson as he focused on finishing up the literary magazine and preparing it for publishing. He had to spend a lot of after hours time in the journalism classroom to accomplish this, because home was chaos ever since Sam Evans had moved in with them to finish out the school year. Mr. Schue had decided that they needed him for Sectionals, and Finn and Rachel had tracked his family down to Kentucky and convinced his parents to let him come back to Lima with them as long as he stayed with one of their families. Obviously, the Hummel/Hudson house had won out. Carson didn't really mind, though. He liked Sam. After all, Sam had gotten a black eye for Kurt last year, so he was pretty decent.

There was also the fact that Blaine seemed less than impressed with him, which actually endeared Sam to Carson even more. It was amusing to watch Blaine sulk as Sam gave them ideas they could use for Sectionals. Clearly he was just mad that nobody wanted to use his stupid Warbler ideas.

"Stop, stop!" said Sam one afternoon during glee rehearsal as Blaine finished showing them some stupid move he had probably copied off a Backstreet Boys video circa 2000. "Look, Blaine, this," he said, indicating the move Blaine had just demonstrated, "is totally boy-band. What we need to sell here is sex," he added, thrusting his hips out.

"What the hell is that?" asked Blaine snottily.

"It's a body roll," answered Sam.

"That's not a body roll," Blaine insisted.

"That is sex," replied Sam."

"Man's not wrong," said Artie. "I got light tingles where it's only 50/50 for tingling."

"Eew," said Carson.

"Yeah, Sam, that's awesome!" said Finn. "It's exactly what we need!"

"No, that's not what we need," said Blaine. "We don't have to resort to...that. It's cheap, you know. It's selling out."

"Oh really?" said Carson. "Is that so, Mr. The-Warblers-Have-To-Do-A-Sexy-Number-For-Regionals?" Blaine glared at him.

"No one asked you, Carson," he snapped.

"I came back here to win!" said Sam. "When you're desperate, sometimes you got to, you know, use your assets and do what you gotta do to get back that advantage! This is the advantage."

"Of course, that's what _you_ think," said Blaine. "You have to think that in order to sleep at night."

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Sam.

"It means that I'm not for sale!" answered Blaine. Carson cheered when Sam pushed him and was sad that Mr. Schue broke up the fight before it could escalate further. He had been hoping to see the hobbit get his ass kicked.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Barney?" asked Carson with his arms crossed as he narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "I knew you were an asshole, but apparently you're also a hypocritical asshole."

"Ugh, forget it!" said Blaine, stalking out of the choir room.

"Jackass," mumbled Carson. "I agree with Sam. Let's sell all the sex." Kurt snorted beside him.

"Am I allowed to sell the sex too?" he asked teasingly. Carson grinned.

"No," he said. "Only to an audience of nuns, although even they would probably be drooling over you."

* * *

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as the curtain closed on the New Directions and the sound of applause filled the auditorium. Sectionals had been exhausting and he was frankly glad it was over, although he did feel a little bad that the Troubletones had lost. Kurt hadn't been able to concentrate much on his performance because freaking Sebastian Smythe had been in the audience, and Kurt hadn't been able to tell if he'd been smiling so widely at Blaine or Carson. Neither option made Kurt feel better.

The one good thing about Sectionals had been that it had basically forced Carson to attend glee meetings leading up to the competition so that they could practice with the whole club. Carson hadn't otherwise been attending them regularly for awhile, ever since he had walked in on Kurt and Blaine, and Kurt had a feeling that he had been sort of trying to distance himself because of that. And it hurt. He really missed Carson. They only really saw each other at bedtime and on the weekend anymore. Kurt hoped that maybe once Carson was done with the literary magazine, they would go back to spending more time together. Blaine was all well and good, and Kurt loved him to bits, but he wasn't the same as Carson.

He snuck out of the choir room while everyone was congratulating each other and snuck off into the hallway, wanting to get a moment alone with Carson, who had gone off to his locker in search of a book he'd said he'd forgotten and needed for his weekend homework. He turned the corner and blinked, trying to process what he was seeing.

Carson was at his open locker, looking extremely uncomfortable as none other than Sebastian Fucking Smythe leaned next to him, his arms crossed and a smarmy smile on his face.

"Look, I've said I'm not interested and would rather stick my dick in a Venus fly trap, so would you kindly fuck off?" Carson said to Sebastian, grabbing his book and slamming his locker shut. Sebastian chuckled.

"Ok, ok. Noted. But I like your feisty attitude," he replied, reaching into the pocket of his blazer and pulling out a piece of paper. "If you should ever change your mind, this is my number." He snaked his hand down and slipped the paper into the back pocket of Carson's performance pants, and the sight of that smirky douche with his hand essentially on Carson's ass was what sprung Kurt into action.

"Ok, you need to back off and do it _now. _This is my absolute hard limit and where I draw the frickin' line, so get your pompous, preppy hand off his ass," ordered Kurt, walking up to Carson and placing an arm protectively over his shoulder.

"Or?" asked Sebastian, the corners of his mouth turning up in an amused smile.

Kurt got up in his face. "I don't think you really want to find out," he said dangerously. Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

"I think I do, actually," he said. "Not tonight, but at some point. We'll be in touch," he said to Carson with a wink. Carson scoffed at him.

"_BYE," _he said pointedly before rolling his eyes. Kurt glared after him and shook his head.

"Thinking he can horn in on you, too, is he? Screw that, I'm done," he muttered. Carson looked at him, amused.

"Is that jealousy?" he asked teasingly.

Kurt sighed. _Yes_. "No. Just...just protectiveness."

"Oh, there you are," said Blaine, coming up behind them and addressing Kurt, ignoring Carson. "I've been looking for you. We're gonna have to go if we want to make our Breadstix reservations."

Damn. Kurt had forgotten about that. He'd been hoping to go home early with Carson and just hang out, but he had the feeling he'd have to deal with a hell of a lot of whining from Blaine if he cancelled.

"Yeah, ok," he said. "I'll meet you in the car after we change our clothes, ok?"

"Ok," said Blaine, casting a look at Carson before disappearing down the hall. Kurt sighed and looked at his twin.

"I'll...I'll see you at home later, then," he said. Carson nodded, looking disappointed.

"Have fun," he said, looking down at the ground and walking past him. Kurt leaned up against the wall of lockers alone, feeling like a horrible person again. It was a feeling that would stick with him all night long, through dinner at Breadstix and later as he lay underneath Blaine in the backseat of the car while Blaine moaned and bounced up and down and the windows fogged up. Kurt tried not to close his eyes and think of Carson.

He failed.

* * *

Carson had never felt more torn in his life as he did the day his early acceptance letter from Northwestern arrived in the mail. On one hand, he was ecstatic. Because even though getting that damn literary magazine off the ground had been a hassle, and even though it had been on sale for a month and he had hardly sold any copies, that was all ok. Because there in his hands was his future. Northwestern had accepted him. He had done it. He was going to live his dream. He could freely look toward the future and know that he was going to leave this stupid cow town behind. He was so happy he could cry.

On the other hand, there was Kurt. Kurt still had yet to find out if he and Rachel were NYADA finalists, and Carson knew that he was worried he wouldn't be considered at all. That he had nothing to offer them, even though Carson tried his best to comfort and reassure him. He looked more and more depressed over it with each passing day, and Carson felt guilty as fuck that he was being guaranteed his dream future and Kurt wasn't yet. He couldn't fully enjoy himself knowing that Kurt was suffering. It didn't feel right.

Kurt, of course, picked right up on that attitude and told him in no uncertain terms to stop it.

"Carson, I won't allow you to feel guilty over this," he'd said on the day the letter arrived. "I absolutely will not! You've worked so hard for this, and you deserve it, and you deserve to feel happy about it. Don't let me hold you back from enjoying the fruits of your labor."

He hadn't gotten any more words out because Carson had wrapped him in the tightest hug he'd ever given him and kissed his cheek.

"I love you," Carson said. "So much."

"I love you too," Kurt squeaked.

Carson had still felt just a little bit guilty about it though, especially when Mr. Schue had found out about it from Ms. Pillsbury and made a big announcement about it during glee club one day.

"One of our own has been accepted early decision to Northwestern University," said Mr. Schue. "Let's hear it for Carson!" A round of half-hearted applause echoed throughout the room. Oddly, Blaine was clapping the loudest.

"_Congratulations,_ Carson," he said, flashing those stupid teeth. "I'm _so_ happy for you. Going to school. So very far away from Lima. Wow. That's _awesome_."

"Gee, thank you Baxter," mumbled Carson, wishing that Mr. Schue had just kept his mouth shut. He looked over at Kurt, hoping that his twin wasn't going to feel bad about this, but Kurt's only response was to smile at him, get out of his seat, and hug him right there. Blaine had looked less than thrilled.

Now there was nothing left to do but sit back and ride out the rest of the school year. He started attending glee meetings again just for fun, because now that it was getting close to Christmas and the glee club had been asked to star in a local television holiday special, the crazy was out in full force. He had no idea who gave Rachel and Blaine permission to sing an original Christmas duet together in the choir room, but it was by far the most horrifying thing that Carson had seen the whole year, and that included the shirtless photos of Blaine that Santana had found.

As far as the paper, he'd basically given up trying to make his journalism team do anything. He just accepted that it was his lot in life (for the next six months, at least) to do all the work himself. That was ok. He'd be leaving soon and the _Muckraker_ would no longer be his problem. He would feel a little sad about it, though. That paper had been his baby for the past three years. He'd miss it.

This was what he was thinking about on the last afternoon before Christmas vacation started as he walked down the hall toward his locker, burstingly happy at the same time because Blaine and his super rich parents were traveling abroad for the holidays and Carson would absolutely not have to deal with his hobbit ass ruining his school break by monopolizing Kurt's time. In other words, Carson had two weeks of uninterrupted Kurt quality time to look forward to, and he was deliriously happy.

He turned the corner and noticed Kurt and Blaine in the corner of the hall, looking to be having a Big Relationship Moment. Carson shuddered and was going to just walk past them and let them have it when he saw Blaine reach into his bag and pull out a small box.

"I know that our relationship has reached a new level this year," he was saying as he handed the box to Kurt. Kurt looked at the box in disbelief.

"If that's an engagement ring, my answer is yes," he said excitedly. Carson felt like he'd been punched right in the face. He didn't feel any better when he saw that it was not, in fact, an engagement ring. In fact, he felt worse. Just the fact that Kurt had thought it was one, and had said...had said...

Carson felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't walk past his brother and Blaine now. He couldn't, or he really _might_ throw up. He looked down at the floor and hurried back in the direction he had come from, running into the journalism classroom and slamming the door behind him. He paced the room and took long, deep breaths, trying hard not to cry and feeling that he wasn't going to be successful.

"I know. It was disgusting," said a familiar voice behind him. Carson tensed and took a deep breath.

"Santana, get out!" he ordered, not turning around to face her. He couldn't cry in front of her. He'd never live it down.

"Relax, ok? I just thought maybe you'd need someone to talk to," she replied.

"Well I don't, and you don't know anything about me or what I'm feeling right now, and I don't need your fucking help so just GO!" Carson said, panicking as he felt the tears coming. "GOOO!"

Santana didn't listen. In fact, she came closer. Carson could hear her sneakers padding across the tiled floor.

"I saw him give Kurt that ridiculous ring," she said quietly. "And I saw your face. You're not ok. You need someone to talk to. I'm a cold hearted bitch, but I wouldn't feel right leaving you to deal with that alone."

Carson didn't say anything. Not until he felt Santana's hands on his shoulders. Then he gave up.

"He thought...he...he thought..." Carson stammered, struggling not to cry. "He thought it was an engagement ring, and..and..."

And then he lost his battle with his tears. They rained down from his eyes in rivers and his shoulders were wracked with huge sobs as Santana gently turned him around and did the last thing he ever expected her to do. She hugged him.

"He was going to say yes," Carson whimpered, letting her hold him and crying into her shoulder. "He was going to...to say yes..."

Santana didn't say anything, for which he was truly grateful. He felt awkward enough crying like this with her, but then he remembered that she had cried in front of him before, so he just decided not to give a shit. He cried for what seemed like forever, until he was out of tears and was just inhaling huge gulps of air. Santana held him through it all, and just let him ride it out until he was down to just the occasional hiccup and sniffle.

"Better?" she asked.

"No," said Carson. "It never gets better."

* * *

"If that's an engagement ring, my answer is yes."

Kurt still couldn't figure out why the hell he had said that. What was wrong with him? Sure, it had turned out to not be an engagement ring (it was actually a very sweet homemade bowtie ring that Blaine had made himself out of gum wrappers, and Kurt thought it was adorable), but had he _really_ said yes if it was?

_Why did you say that, Kurt? I know you've always dreamed of getting married, but you are in NO way ready to be engaged. You're in high school. You're not even sure that Blaine is The One. You...you still think of Carson when you think of your wedding day. You think of him standing at the front of the aisle waiting for you. You know you could never have that even if you and Carson were together, but you still want it. Get yourself together!_

And when Blaine had kissed him and left to go home, Kurt had been more confused than ever about his feelings. All he knew was that he really wanted Carson right now. So he headed in the direction of the journalism classroom. He could always find Carson there.

Well, he found him there, alright. He also found Santana. And they were hugging. Because apparently Santana was becoming his new BFF and Carson didn't need him so much anymore.

Kurt turned away from the doorway, looked sadly down at the ring box and sighed. Some days he really hated his life. This was one of those days.


	19. Chapter 19

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here we go with another chapter! Not much to say here except our readers are awesome and every review and kind comment we get is like a little nugget of gold. Let's read! **

Despite how utterly emotionally devastated Carson was after witnessing that ring exchange in the hallway, he decided that he wasn't going to let it spoil his uninterrupted quality time with Kurt. He forced himself to put the ring out of his mind and concentrate on the fact that, for the next two weeks, Blaine wouldn't even be in the same country, and Carson would have Kurt all to himself. He was glad he did, because those two weeks turned out to be some of the happiest he'd had in a very long time. It was almost like it used to be in years past, before there was Blaine or the twins' looming separation from each other in the fall to worry about. For those two weeks, they could just _be_, and it felt wonderful to Carson. The only bad thing was that, like all good things in his life, it was fleeting and the days were going by way too fast for his liking.

Which was what he was thinking about on Christmas Eve as he and Kurt lay on the couch together, everyone else in the house having long since gone to bed, leaving them alone. Kurt was curled up with his head in Carson's lap while they watched _Miracle on 34th Street_, and Carson was gently stroking Kurt's hair with one hand while the other rested tenderly on Kurt's shoulder. It was, purely and simply, bliss. The lights on the tree were still turned on, the star on top twinkling in the dark room and casting a gentle glow over Kurt's relaxed form, and Carson thought for what seemed like the millionth time in his life that there was absolutely no one and nothing in the whole world more beautiful than Kurt.

Kurt stirred in his lap as the movie ended and looked up at him, his eyes thoughtful. "You've been so quiet," he said. "Are you ok?"

Carson smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, ruffling his hair. A sleepy smile spread across Kurt's face as he pressed a kiss to Carson's stomach through his shirt.

"Shall we put in _Home Alone_ now, or are you tired?" asked Carson.

"Actually, I have a present for you," replied Kurt, his fingers dancing across Carson's arm. Carson raised his eyebrows.

"Is that right?" he asked. Kurt nodded.

"Mmm-hmm." He lazily flopped out of Carson's lap and got to his knees, sticking his hand underneath the couch and rooting around in the dark.

"You hid it under the couch?" asked Carson, amused. He got up, turned on the end table lamp, and quickly retrieved a present of his own from where he'd stashed it under the tree before sitting back down, waiting for Kurt.

"Yep," replied Kurt, finding what he was looking for and flopping back down beside Carson on the couch. "I figured we'd end up here, so..." He smiled as he saw the small package in Carson's hands. "I see we thought alike."

Carson nodded. "Twinsies," he teased, handing Kurt his present while Kurt handed him his. Kurt's smile turned into a grin.

"You go first," he said, resting his head on Carson's chest. Carson kissed the top of his head and nodded, turning his attention to the nearly flat, rectangular gift in his hand. He carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a picture frame that had obviously been decorated by Kurt. It was painted to resemble a piece of notebook paper, with a white background and black lines running horizontally across. Three circles were painted down the left side, along with a vertical pink line. The entire thing had been dusted with a light layer of glitter. Inside the frame was a photo taken by Burt on the day Carson's acceptance letter from Northwestern had arrived. Carson was smiling in it, holding up his letter while Kurt grinned widely behind him, his arms wrapped around Carson's chest and his chin on Carson's shoulder. Carson smiled down at the frame and then looked over at Kurt. "Kurt, it's so beautiful," he said.

"I thought maybe you could put it on your desk or something at Northwestern," said Kurt. "I just...I just wanted you to remember me, even when you're off taking the journalism world by storm."

Carson swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and gave Kurt a watery smile. "Kurt, I could never forget you. Never. No matter where I go, you're always going to be right there beside me, even if it's only in my mind." They looked at each other for a long minute before Kurt spoke again.

"I'm really going to miss you, Carsey," he said quietly, looking down at the frame. "So much."

Carson set the frame gently down on the coffee table and wrapped Kurt in a hug. "Hey, now, I know it's going to be hard," he said, softly stroking Kurt's back. "I'm going to miss you too, more than you know. But you're going to be much too busy grabbing New York by the balls to worry about missing me that much." He heard Kurt snort into his shoulder.

"I haven't gotten my letter yet, Carson," he said. "I don't even know if I'm a finalist."

"You will," Carson assured him. He let go of Kurt and nodded down at the gift that Kurt had yet to open. "Your turn now." Kurt smiled and nodded, carefully removing the blue wrapping off of the small shoebox into which Carson had placed a brown teddy bear wearing a hoodie with "Northwestern University" written on it, and a pair of jeans. On its face was a pair of paper glasses that Carson had fashioned himself out of construction paper in the journalism classroom one day while skipping a glee meeting. Kurt lifted the teddy bear out and held it in his hands, a smile forming on his face as he looked down at it and then at Carson.

"Is this the teddy bear version of you?" he asked, holding the bear up for Carson to see. Carson nodded.

"Yep. I thought that, you know, when we're apart next year, you'd want something to cuddle at night when you go to sleep," he answered, suddenly feeling inexplicably shy. "I won't be there, but Carson Bear over there will be. You can hug him, and maybe I'll feel it where I am."

Kurt looked at him, his bottom lip quivering slightly, before launching himself at him, hugging him so hard that Carson almost couldn't breathe.

"I'll hug him every night," said Kurt, his voice shaky. "I will. You can count on that...Carson?"

"Hmm?"

"I...I love you."

Carson hugged him tighter. "I love you, too."

The second week of vacation passed by in a blur, and New Year's Eve found him sitting on the couch again beside Kurt, while Santana lounged in Burt's usual chair with Brittany perched on her lap. Their dad and Carole had gone out for the evening and Sam and Finn had disappeared over to Puck's, leaving the twins with the house to themselves. Blaine, mercifully, would not be back in the country until the next day. Carson had been all set to cuddle with Kurt on the couch while they watched the _New Year's Rockin' Eve_ coverage on TV, when the doorbell rang and he opened the door to reveal Santana, who pushed her way into the house with Brittany following closely behind her.

"We're hanging out here tonight," she'd informed him, settling in her seat. "There are no parties to be at, and we have nowhere better to be. Hi, Lady Hummel," she'd added cheerfully as Kurt gave her a look that could crack glass. "You and Hummel Two go ahead with your sweet, brotherly bonding time. Britts and I don't mind."

"Yeah, Santana, please come on in," muttered Carson with an eye roll as he shut the door and rejoined Kurt on the couch. Kurt had glared at Santana and then wrapped his arms tightly around Carson's waist with his head on his chest, and that's how they stayed for about an hour, until Santana abruptly got up and turned the TV off.

"This is lame and I'm bored," she announced, sitting back down and reaching her arms out for Brittany. "Let's play Truth or Dare."

Carson felt his stomach seize up. "Santana, I swear..." he said in a warning tone. She grinned at him.

"Relax, Carson," she said, winking at him. "I won't make you do anything you _really_ don't want to do."

Kurt was giving her an icy stare, his arms still wrapped around Carson. "What is it with you and these damn party games?" he asked.

Santana shrugged. "Like I said, I'm bored. I needs to be entertained. And you two have a bit of a history of entertaining me a _lot_..."

"Santana," Carson interrupted her in a sharp tone.

"Anyway," she continued, ignoring him, "This won't exactly be a riotous good time because there's no alcohol, but I'm sure we can make it interesting." She said that last part pointedly, raising one eyebrow at Carson. Part of him was silently vowing to kill her the first chance he got, while the other part was secretly hoping she would dare him and Kurt to kiss again, precisely because they _weren't _drunk, and he was dying to know what a sober kiss felt like. He wondered if this game was the whole reason she had even come over in the first place.

"Fine," said Kurt, letting go of Carson's waist and sitting up straight, his head held high and his legs crossed. "I'll go first. Hit me with your best shot, Satan." Carson lamented the loss of those arms around him, but was kind of eager (and scared) to see where this went.

Santana smirked and shared a quick look with Brittany. "Ok, Lady Hummel. Truth or dare?"

Kurt crossed his arms and glowered at her. "Truth."

Santana thought for a minute and then gave him an amused look. "Ok. If you could spend one night with any guy you choose, no strings attached, who would it be? And Bowties doesn't count."

Kurt blushed, his cheeks turning an interesting shade of scarlet. "I don't know," he mumbled. Carson tried not to show his interest, even though he really wanted to know the answer.

"You don't know?" asked Santana, clearly not buying that answer. "No, no, Hummel One. You have to answer the question. Them's the rules."

Kurt rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, his arms still crossed. "I don't know, Santana...Taylor Lautner, I guess?"

Santana snorted. "Sure. Yeah, ok. What about _with_ strings attached? Then who would it be?"

Kurt went from scarlet to almost purple as he examined the floor as if it were the most interesting thing on the face of the earth. "I...you know what? No. You don't get to ask two questions. I answered the first one and that's all I will answer."

Santana smiled, one eyebrow raised as she looked over at Carson. Carson glared at her and shook his head. He could see what she was trying to do, and he hoped to whatever force may or may not have been out there in the universe that she would fucking stop.

Although he was _dying_ to know what Kurt's answer would have been.

"Ok, Pulitzer, it's your turn," said Santana, turning her attention to Carson.

"Ooh!" exclaimed Brittany, raising her hand in the air. "Me! I want to ask him!"

"Go ahead, Britt," said Santana. Brittany looked at Carson and smiled.

"Ok, truth or dare?" she asked him. He rolled his eyes and was about to say "Truth" just to fuck with Santana, but then he thought better of it. He didn't entirely trust her not to have briefed Brittany ahead of time on which questions to ask, and he would bet his spot at Northwestern that most of those involved him and Kurt. Plus, he _was_ kind of hoping for a kissing dare.

"Dare," he said after a minute. He heard Kurt take in a sharp breath beside him. He was just as familiar with Santana and Brittany's dares as Carson was.

Brittany grinned and looked to Santana. They had a silent conference with their eyes, and then Brittany turned back to Carson.

"I dare you to give Kurt a sweet twin kiss," she said. _I knew _it, thought Carson. _They're so predictable. _Brittany pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it at him. "And it's gonna be timed, and you have to do it for a full minute." Santana smiled evilly and nodded in agreement. Carson gulped.

"Um..." he said, searching for words. "Only if it's ok with Kurt." He turned to his twin for confirmation. Kurt hesitated only a few seconds before nodding.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, ok. It's almost midnight anyway," he said, pointing to the clock on the cable box, which read 11:58. "And I don't have anyone to...to kiss...and it's sort of tradition now for us to kiss on New Year's, so..."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself, babe," said Santana, taking Brittany's phone and setting up the stopwatch feature. "Ok, 3...2...1...aaaaaand...go."

Carson swallowed and looked into Kurt's eyes. They were sparkling and they looked so very, very blue. He expected to find at least a little bit of hesitation, since neither of them were drunk or asleep, and Kurt was probably thinking about Blaine, but to Carson's relief, he didn't see any. What he did see was anticipation, so he quickly closed the gap between their faces before he could lose his nerve and pressed their lips together.

Wow. _Wow_. Carson wasn't sure that there were suitable words in any language to accurately describe the way he felt as his lips made contact with Kurt's. Kurt's lips were _perfect_. He knew that they were soft, of course. He remembered that much from their previous makeouts, but they were a whole different experience when he was sober. This kiss was a thousand times more intense, so powerful he wasn't sure he would survive it. He was fucking drowning.

He briefly wondered if this was what kissing a cloud felt like, and god, _that_ was a stupid thing to think, and then Kurt was gasping into his mouth and Carson's stomach seemed to have been taken over by an army of hyperactive butterflies on a sugar rush. He knew for absolute sure now that people weren't just using a figure of speech when they said kissing the one you love makes you see fireworks. There they were behind his eyes, as clear as day. He could vaguely hear people outside cheering and yelling "Happy New Year!"

"Mmmph," Kurt mumbled, and then Carson felt his hands gently cupping his face as Kurt leaned back on the couch, pulling Carson down almost on top of him as he deepened the kiss. Carson could feel the rise and fall of Kurt's chest and the _thump thump_ _thump _of his heart that matched the rhythm of Carson's own. Kurt's tongue was seeking entrance into Carson's mouth, and Carson moaned and was just about to grant it when Santana's voice rang out into the room.

"Minute's up, guys," she said. "You may cease and desist."

Carson really did want to kill her now as he regretfully separated his lips from Kurt's and unconsciously darted his tongue out to lick them. He could taste the remnants of Kurt's lip balm and just _Kurt_, and it was intoxicating. They stared at each other for several long seconds, both of them trying to catch their breath. Kurt's eyes, Carson noticed, were no longer sparkling, nor did they look blue. They were very dark, the only remnants of color being thin rings around his pupils. The sight made Carson shiver delightfully.

"Wow," said Santana. "That. Was. _Wanky_."

"That was so hot," added Brittany. Kurt blinked and shook his head, darting up from the couch and blushing a furious red.

"Anybody want anything to drink? I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he babbled, rushing out of the living room. "I'll...I'll be back."

"Oh, can I help?" asked Brittany eagerly, scrambling off Santana's lap to follow him. "We have to be quiet though, I don't want to scare the little man who lives in the fridge and turns the light on and off. I want to catch him." Kurt gaped at her in disbelief as they disappeared into the kitchen and Santana scurried over to the couch to flop beside Carson.

"So," she said with a knowing smile. "That was...intense."

Carson sighed. "I don't want to talk about it, Santana."

"Well I think you _should_," she insisted in a hushed tone. "Because I have good reason to believe that your boy isn't exactly all brotherly toward you, either."

"Santana, stop!" Carson hissed. "Why are you doing this to me? I thought we were sort of friends."

"We are," she said. "I'm trying to help you out here. Take my word on this, Hummel, that boy has it _bad_ for you. I don't care how much he pretends to love Bowties, I've _never_ seen someone so intensely into a kiss the way he was just now."

"He wasn't," Carson said, unsure of his own words. He wanted to believe her so badly, but he couldn't let himself. She was probably wrong. After all, she hadn't had the "privilege" of walking in on Kurt and Blaine fucking in the twins' bedroom.

"Oh really? Is that why he looked like he was ready to move into your mouth and live there?" she asked. "Or why he practically shows literal cat claws every time somebody gets even remotely close to you?" She leaned closer and whispered into his ear just as Kurt and Brittany walked back into the room holding two soda cans each. "Honey, he loves you and he's a jealous bitch. Watch."

Kurt's jaw set itself in a line and he wedged himself on the couch between Carson and Santana, handing Carson one of the soda cans as he practically sat in his lap. "My seat, Satan," he said lightly. "Shoo."

Santana shot Carson a pointed look as if to say "See?" and returned to her previous seat. Carson took a deep breath and opened his soda, chugging half of it down in one gulp just for something to distract himself. Could Santana be right?

_No_, he thought. _That's impossible. It couldn't be. I hardly ever get anything I want. I was lucky to get Northwestern. I don't dare to hope for this._

* * *

_How did I get here?_ Carson thought as he sat between Kurt and Blaine in the lounge area of the Lima Bean. _When was I reduced to voluntarily spending time with a group that includes both the hobbit and Trollberry? _

The new school semester had long since started, the final stretch that stood between Carson and freedom, and it was now only a few weeks until Regionals. Carson had spent a lot of time since New Years trying to forget what Santana had said, and he had just recently managed to put it out of his mind, even though its shadow still lingered. He couldn't stop himself sometimes from wondering if she was right, even just a little bit, and then he mentally slapped himself for even wishing for that when he knew he couldn't have it. He wished Santana had never said anything at all. It had been a rough few weeks.

It didn't help his mood that he had been regularly attending glee meetings so that he knew what was going on for Regionals preparation (absolutely nothing, as usual, but at least he got to be near Kurt and be a cockblock to Blaine). The club was planning to repeat their Sectionals success by doing another Michael Jackson medley for Regionals, which was what was being discussed at the moment around the Lima Bean lounge.

"I've got to be honest, I never really got him," Rachel was saying between sips of her coffee.

"We are no longer on speaking terms," said Artie.

"No," said Rachel, trying to defend her blasphemous statement. "I think he's an amazing performer, but I never really just _got_ what he was about."

"Rachel, he was friends with Liza Minnelli _and_ Liz Taylor!" said Kurt. Carson smiled at him.

"No, all I'm saying is that I haven't connected with him the way that I have with the likes of Barbra or either of the Stephens. Sondheim. Schwartz," she clarified.

"I'd throw this mocha in your face, but it isn't nearly scalding enough," said Santana seriously. Carson snorted.

"Can you do it anyway?" he asked. "It's at least got to be hot enough to do nerve damage, right?" Santana smiled evilly and Kurt set his mouth in a line. _He tends to do that whenever Santana interacts with me_, Carson thought. _Clearly it's jealousy, but...I mean, Santana is wrong, it's totally NOT romantic jealousy. It can't be, he knows she's gay. He just doesn't like sharing me. I can understand._

"Ok, but since you guys are so jazzed about him, I think it's a good idea for Regionals," conceded Rachel, tossing a glare Carson's way. He smiled at her sweetly.

"That might not be the best idea." Carson looked up from where he had started fiddling with a loose string on his hoodie to see that none other than Sebastian Smythe had just sauntered up to them. _Oh, joy_, Carson thought, sinking further down into his seat and hoping the boy wouldn't notice him. He hated being hit on. It felt so weird.

"Hey, Blaine. Hey, Hot Hummel. Hello, everyone else," said Sebastian, throwing a wink Carson's way. Carson wanted really badly to give him the middle finger back, but he settled for rolling his eyes.

"Does he live here or something?" muttered Kurt, looping his arm through Carson's. "Seriously, you are _always_ here," he said to Sebastian, his tone making it very clear how much he disapproved of this turn of events.

"Why don't you think that's a good idea?" Artie asked Sebastian.

"Because we're doing M.J. for Regionals," Sebastian answered. "You see, Warblers drew first position, so as soon as I heard what your plan was, I changed our set list accordingly."

"I'm sorry, _how_ did you hear?" asked Rachel.

Sebastian smiled. "Blaine told me this morning." Four heads turned to glare at Blaine, and Carson turned to him in order to fully enjoy the uncomfortable look on his face as he realized that he'd fucked up and everyone knew it.

"I just called for a tip on how to get red wine out of my blazer piping, and he would _not _stop going on about it," Sebastian continued.

"So basically we're fucked because Bingo couldn't keep his mouth shut," said Carson. "Just to recap. Fucked. Billy's fault. Remember this." He ignored the amused look Sebastian threw his way.

"I may have mentioned it," said Blaine awkwardly.

"How often do you talk?" asked Kurt in an icy voice as Blaine rolled his eyes and refused to answer him. _Yeah, Bobby, how often DO you talk to other guys behind Kurt's back?_

"Oh my god! Hey, Kurt. I didn't recognize you," said Sebastian in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "You are wearing boy clothes for once! Oh no, wait, my bad. That's your hot twin wearing the boy clothes." He winked at Carson again and Kurt's grip on Carson's arm grew tighter. "What was your name again?" he asked. "Carl? Casey?"

"Carson, you ass," Carson muttered. Sebastian grinned.

"Well, Carson, speaking of ass, I do wish you were standing up right now, because if the glimpse I caught of your ass in those jeans when we first met, or the brief feel I got when I gave you my number was any indication, you have a great one and I wouldn't mind seeing it or feeling it again," he said, the grin never leaving his face. Carson felt Kurt's fingers practically digging into his arm now. He glanced over at his twin and discovered that Kurt was turning a really interesting shade of red. He looked ready to murder Sebastian. And it was hot as hell.

"He gave you his number?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows furrowing together as he looked between Carson and Sebastian.

"I sure did," replied Sebastian. "Seriously, Carson, if you and your ass should _ever_ change your mind, do not even hesitate to c-"

"His ass is _MINE_, so why don't you go fuck off?" Kurt blurted out, interrupting him. Silence reigned among the group for several seconds until Santana broke it.

"Wanky," she murmured, giving Carson a pointed look. Carson ignored her. He was too busy trying not to pop a boner at how possessive and forceful Kurt was being. A tent in his jeans was the last thing he needed around Sebastian.

Sebastian turned to Kurt and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, come now, Kurt. Don't be selfish. I can understand why you'd want to keep that hot ass all to yourself, but you can't have it _and_ Blaine's. Give me one."

"Can everyone stop objectifying me?" asked Carson. "I am _not_ a piece of meat." He felt himself blushing in both embarrassment and from being turned on at Kurt's outburst, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Kurt's face turning even redder.

"I'm protective of my brother, Meerkat," Kurt snapped. "The only way you'll get your hands on any part of him, _especially_ his ass, is over my cold, dead body. The same goes for Blaine," he added in a rush.

"That could be arranged, if you insist," said Sebastian thoughtfully. _Oh, this bitch did NOT_, thought Carson, getting ready to tell him to fuck off.

"Alright, Twink, I think it's time I showed you a little Lima Heights hospitality," said Santana, getting up from her seat and waving her empty coffee cup in Sebastian's face.

"Unless you want to join your relatives in prison, that's probably not the best idea," replied Sebastian cooly. "See, my dad is sort of what you'd call a State's Attorney. But if you had a piñata you wanted delivered, I bet he could make sure that got to them." Santana glared at him, but backed off.

"So, here's what you guys should know," Sebastian continued. "I am captain of the Warblers now, and I am tired of playing nice." He gave them all a smile, making sure to wave at Blaine and wink at Carson, before strolling out of the shop. Kurt was practically hyperventilating with rage beside Carson. It was adorable.

"This is all your fault, Bowties," said Santana as she sat back down. "I knew you were a no-good jackass. Fraternizing with the enemy and shit."

"I'm extremely interested in knowing just how often you _do_ talk to other guys," said Carson, giving Blaine a sarcastic smile. "You know, without telling your boyfriend."

"Carson," said Kurt, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Come on. Let's...let's just everybody calm down, ok? It's...it's fine. Regionals will be fine. Don't gang up on Blaine."

Carson sighed and settled into his seat, desperately wishing that the day on which Kurt would realize he could do so much better would just hurry up and come.

* * *

Kurt didn't know how the day had gotten so out of control. In hindsight, he should have tried harder to talk Blaine out of challenging the Warblers to a sing-off in an empty parking garage to solve the Regionals dispute. It clearly wasn't going to turn out well, but Blaine had insisted that it was the only way to settle the issue.

So the entire New Directions had met the Warblers at the garage. Carson had even come along, despite his very vocal objections that the whole idea was stupid (all it had taken was Kurt giving him the pout and he had caved instantly). There had been words, the sing-off had begun, and chaos had reigned. The garage was a flurry of people and singing and dancing, and then complete disaster had struck. It all happened so fast. Kurt had caught a glimpse of someone holding out a paper bag to Sebastian, and then he'd been momentarily distracted. The next thing he knew, Sebastian was walking toward him, holding a slushie cup in his hand.

"Kurt! Watch out! No!" Carson shouted. Kurt felt Carson's hand yanking him away by the arm just as Sebastian threw the cup and Blaine jumped in front of Kurt, taking the brunt of the slushie in the face.

The next few minutes were a haze of confusion and seemed to happen in slow motion. Everyone watched as Blaine fell to the ground, groaning in pain and covering his eyes. Carson held Kurt for several seconds before Kurt finally gathered his brain together and broke away to go see to Blaine.

"What the _fuck_?" Carson exclaimed angrily, walking over to Sebastian as Kurt knelt down beside Blaine. "Did you just try to throw that at Kurt? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? Get out of here!" he yelled, pushing at Sebastian. "All of you. Go!" The Warblers had left the garage then, most of them looking worriedly back at Blaine on their way.

"Carson," said Kurt quietly, trying not to panic or cry as he managed to gently pry Blaine's hands from his eyes to inspect the damage, "I think...I think his eye is bleeding." Carson joined him on the ground and Kurt pointed out Blaine's red, swollen eye, which was leaking a mixture of blood, tears, and the remnants of the slushie.

"Fuck," said Carson, sighing as Blaine whimpered in pain. "Ok...alright, you help him into the car and we'll take him to the hospital, ok?" Kurt nodded, feeling his bottom lip quivering and struggling not to give in and cry. He didn't want to scare Blaine. Carson noticed and wrapped him in a hug.

"Kurt, it will be alright. He'll be fine, ok? We'll get him to the hospital and he'll be fine," Carson soothed. Kurt nodded against him and took a shaky breath.

"Ok," he said, feeling the immediate threat of tears leaving as Carson hugged him. He broke away and started gently helping Blaine up as Carson stood up and fished in his pocket for the car keys.

"One of you call the police," he said to the rest of the glee club, who were still standing around in shock. "Tell them what happened, tell them that Kurt and I have taken Brandon to the hospital, and make sure you tell them that Sebastard did this." Santana nodded and reached for her phone.

"It hurts," Blaine groaned as Kurt led him over to the car.

"I know," he said, hoping he sounded comforting. "We're getting you to the hospital, honey, ok?" He opened the backseat door and helped Blaine inside. "Here, lay down," he said, briefly flashing back to the last time he had tried to make Blaine lay down in the backseat outside of Scandals and instantly feeling like a jerk for thinking about that when there was a serious emergency happening.

They drove to the hospital in silence, Carson driving and Kurt sitting beside him, mostly thinking dark, murderous thoughts about Sebastian, but also thinking about how that slushie had clearly been meant for him. It should have been him moaning in pain in the backseat right now, and it would have been if not for both Carson and Blaine. And what disturbed him most of all wasn't that it should have been him. No, what really disturbed him was the fact that he was actually secretly relieved that Carson hadn't been the one to jump in front of him. He wasn't sure what his reaction would have been if Carson were the one that Sebastian had injured, but he was quite sure it would have involved punching Sebastian in the face as hard as he could.

_I'm a horrible person and a horrible boyfriend,_ Kurt thought miserably as he reached his hand into the backseat for Blaine to squeeze. _Blaine took that hit for me and all I can think about is Carson. How much more of a jerk can I be?_

* * *

The next few days were confusing for Carson as he switched between feeling extremely amused and extremely angry. On one hand, Blaine had gotten a severely scratched cornea in his right eye from that slushie and was bedridden with an eyepatch while he waited to have surgery on it, which meant that he wasn't going to be a problem for Carson at school for the next week or so. Carson kind of wanted to shake Sebastian's hand for that, right before he punched him in the fucking dick for intending for the slushie to hit Kurt instead. There was no doubt that there had been something added to it to cause that kind of damage, and Carson didn't even want to think about how fucking angry and violent he would have gotten had it hit Kurt. He definitely would have done jail time, because he probably would have murdered Sebastian right there in the garage in front of everyone. He might have done that anyway just for the fact that the other boy had _meant _to hit Kurt, but he'd had to step into action and help Kurt get Bubbles to the hospital. He may have hated the hobbit, but he was still seriously hurt and Kurt was upset.

_Good thing it hit Barlow instead_, Carson thought on more than one occasion during the past few days. _Serves him right, anyway_.

He didn't understand why everyone was so upset that Blaine had gotten hurt. As far as Carson was concerned, Blaine had gotten exactly what he deserved. It had been his stupid idea in the first place to challenge the Warblers. Shit, a challenge wouldn't even have been necessary if Blaine had been able to keep his fucking mouth shut and not told Sebastian about New Directions' plan for Regionals in the first damn place.

_What kind of asshole talks to another guy behind his boyfriend's back on a regular basis when he knows that said boyfriend and other guy don't like each other?_ Carson wondered. _He HAS to have seen the way Sebastian talks to Kurt. What the fuck? Better question, why does Kurt put up with it? I wish there was a way for me to force Kurt to see that he can do better. Even...even if it's not with me. ANYONE would be better than Blanco. Literally, anyone._

He was in the journalism classroom thinking these things as he prepared the layout of the next edition of the _Muckraker_ when there was a knock on the door. Carson looked up, expecting to see Malerie or Santana, and was surprised to see his dad there instead, holding something in his hand.

"Dad!" he said, getting up from his desk. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright? Is Kurt ok?"

His dad smiled. "Everything is fine, Carson. I hope. I just came here because this came in the mail today, and I couldn't wait." He held out his hand to show Carson what he was holding, which turned out to be an envelope. It was addressed to Kurt, and the return address revealed it had come from NYADA.

Carson gasped. "Oh my god, his letter! It came! Where is he? Does he know?"

Burt shook his head. "I haven't seen him yet. I came here first, since I figured you'd want to be there when he opens it, and I know he's gonna want you there too. I was just on my way to get him out of class."

Carson grinned and took the letter, holding it to his chest and sighing. "He's going to be so excited! He's a finalist, I know he is. He's got to be."

Burt grinned back and put his arm around Carson's shoulder. "I hope so, kid. Come on, let's go find him."

They headed together down to Mr. Schue's classroom, where Kurt was sitting at his desk and dutifully copying Spanish notes from the whiteboard. Burt had a quick word with Mr. Schue, who nodded in understanding.

"Kurt?" he said. "Your dad and Carson want to talk to you." Kurt looked up and caught Carson's eye. Carson gave him a reassuring smile as Kurt gathered his things and followed them out into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" he asked nervously. "Is Blaine ok?"

"Who cares?" asked Carson.

"He's _fine_," Burt said, giving Carson a warning look. "The mail came." Kurt's already pale face grew even paler as Carson handed him the envelope. He took it with trembling hands, his eyes glued to the address in the top corner.

"NYADA," he breathed. "NYADA!" He started breathing hard, clutching the envelope in his hand and pacing the hall. "Oh god, I don't know if I want to open it! What if I'm not a finalist?"

"Kurt, please," said Carson, walking up to him and placing his hands on his shoulders. "There's no way you're not a finalist. Can you please open it before I die?"

Kurt gulped and nodded, going to tear the envelope open but stopping short of actually doing so. "Not here," he said, shaking his head. "Not out here in the hallway, it's too...it's not special enough." He thought for a minute before heading down the hallway, a determined look on his face. Carson and Burt looked at each other and followed him.

Kurt led them to various rooms, peering into each one briefly and shaking his head, apparently deciding that they weren't right. He finally ended up at the door to the choir room and nodded to himself before entering, Carson and Burt on his heels.

"Dude, come on! This is like, the fifth room we've been to!" their dad said exasperatedly. "What's wrong with the library? Or the lunchroom?"

"None of those felt right," answered Kurt. "This is it, Dad. This is one of those crossroad moments in life. Whatever's in this envelope is going to determine whether I go right or left."

"I'm here no matter what it says," Burt assured him. Carson nodded in agreement.

"You know you have me to lean on, Kurtsie," he said with a smile. "No matter what, you always have me."

Kurt smiled nervously and turned away from them, tearing the envelope open and removing the letter inside. Carson was practically hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation. _Oh god, please, please, PLEASE let him be a finalist. He deserves it so much._

Kurt mumbled as he read the letter and then stood completely still, holding his head up and shaking slightly. He turned around to face them, looking like he was about to cry.

"What?" their dad asked.

"…...I'm a finalist!" Kurt said tearfully, a big smile spreading across his face as he started to laugh.

"YES!" Carson screeched, his whole body exploding with joy as he rushed over to Kurt and wrapped him in a hug, nearly knocking him down in the process. "Oh god, Kurtsie, I knew it! I knew you'd be one!" He heard their dad give a joyful shout and then he hugged both of them at the same time, lifting them both up into the air.

"Dad, your heart!" Kurt admonished him through his tears of happiness.

"Screw my heart!" Burt answered. "You did it! You did it, Kurt! Oh man, who's gonna tell Blaine? You have to let me do it!"

Carson shivered and felt a lead weight drop into his stomach at the mention of Blaine's name, but he shook it off. He didn't want to spoil Kurt's happy moment with negativity. Their dad let go, but Carson still clung to Kurt, one arm around his shoulder and the other resting on his waist as Kurt rested one hand on Carson's chest.

"Dad, are you crying?" asked Kurt.

"You beat them all," said Burt in a choked up voice. "You both did. They threw everything at you, they tried to beat you down, but you know what? You're unstoppable, Kurt. I'm so proud to be your dad. They can never take this away from you. Right now, in this moment, on this day, you won. I'm just so proud of both of you," he said, hugging them again.

He left them alone in the choir room after a few more minutes of celebration, and Kurt slowly sank down into the nearest chair, staring at his letter and shaking his head.

"I just...I can't believe it, Carsey," he said quietly. "This is my shot. I'm getting a chance, and I never even thought I would get that much, and I..I just..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning his eyes on Carson. "Please tell me I'll make it."

Carson smiled and sat beside him, putting one arm around his shoulder as Kurt rested his head on his chest. "You'll make it, baby. You'll audition and you'll kill it, I know it. One way or the other, your future is in New York. I promise."

"Have I ever mentioned that I love you?" asked Kurt, wiping his eyes with one hand.

"Hmmm...I don't recall you saying it _lately_," answered Carson. Kurt snorted.

"Well, I do. A lot," he said. Carson smiled and held him closer.

"Same here, Kurtsie. Same here. And I'm so proud of you."

* * *

"Santana, is this really necessary?" asked Carson exasperatedly as he waited outside the girls' bathroom for Santana to change her clothes. "You don't have to dress like Michael Jackson for this. The recorder will still fit just as well under your uniform. Hell, it would have been easier and faster just for me to wear the fucking thing."

"I'm trying to prove a point, Anderson Cooper, so yes, it's necessary," came Santana's irritated voice from the bathroom. "We're getting that confession _and_ I'm going to prove to Preppy The Second that M.J. is _ours_ for Regionals and that if he doesn't like it he can suck it."

Carson sighed and leaned against the wall. He had been ambushed by Santana in the journalism classroom the previous day after school and informed that he would be accompanying her to Dalton today in order to confront Sebastian and get him to somehow confess to what had been in the slushie that had unfortunately _not _blinded Blaine.

"I thought you'd be interested in coming along," she'd said. "I had a little talk with Kurt today, and he's, like, _really_ upset about this."

"I know," Carson replied. "He's been really quiet and brooding. The whole thing really shook him up."

"I know you don't care what I think," said Santana, "but he was making a list of non-violent ways to get revenge, and if you ask me, I don't think his anger is _entirely _because of the Killer Slushie."

Carson narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you mean?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Hello? Have you not noticed how steam practically starts pouring out of his ears whenever Sebastian hits on you? Like, he gets _really_ pissed. More pissed than he ever gets when he hits on Bowties."

Carson shook his head. "Santana, come on, can you not?"

"I'm just saying, he obviously gets territorial, and it's kind of adorable," Santana insisted. "And I promised the boy we'd get our revenge on Richie Rich, so are you in or are you in?"

Carson sighed and locked eyes with her. "I'm in."

Which was why he was now standing impatiently outside the bathroom waiting for Santana to hurry up so they could go take care of business. Artie had hooked them up with a small tape recorder, which Santana was planning to strap to herself in order to get Sebastian confessing on tape. Kurt, thankfully, had gone over to Blaine's house straight after school and knew nothing of this plan, otherwise he probably would not have approved of Carson going. Carson was going to be in enough trouble as it was if Kurt found out that he had paid Finn to go with Rachel to Blaine's and make sure there was no funny business happening. Carson didn't trust Blaine not to beg for a sympathy blowjob or something.

"All set!" announced Santana, stepping out of the bathroom in a black suit, her hair out of its ponytail and adorned with a fedora. "Got the recorder strapped to my underboob."

Carson made a disgusted face. "Santana, I'm going to very politely ask you never to mention your boobs in front of me again, ok? Gross."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Shut up and let's go, Hummel."

They took Carson's car to Dalton, and Carson was pretty sure that they arrived at the school just in the nick of time because if Santana made one more _Transformers_ or _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ joke about the car, he was quite sure he would have ended up kicking her out and letting her walk the rest of the way.

"This is the room," Santana announced, discreetly reaching into her shirt and pressing the button on the recorder before leading Carson into what he assumed was Dalton's band room, in which sat about a zillion fancy cushioned chairs. The Warblers were entering the room at the same time from the opposite side.

_It's on, bitch_ thought Carson, getting into the spirit of things. _Kurt wants revenge, and revenge is what he will get._

"Hey, Andrew McCarthy," Santana said, greeting Sebastian. "Don't know if you heard, but Blaine may lose an eye. The same Blaine who was just besties with most of you not four months ago."

Carson rolled his eyes. _I don't care so much about that_.

"Wait, are you serious? Is he gonna be ok?" asked a random Warbler as Sebastian stared at them, arms crossed. He gave a suggestive eyebrow raise to Carson, who crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Sure, if he doesn't care about seeing in three dimensions," answered Santana.

"Trent, I got this," said Sebastian to the Warbler, turning back to Santana. "Bummer about Blaine. He was pretty," he said with a shrug. "He shouldn't have gotten in the way, though. That slushie was meant for Kurt."

Carson felt a surge of anger rush through his body. "Ok, bitch, should we take this outside?" he snapped. Santana put a hand on his shoulder in a silent plea for him to shut up. Carson took a deep breath and tried to cool down. They weren't supposed to be getting violent. Kurt wouldn't want that.

"Didn't peg you for the exhibitionist type," replied Sebastian with a wink. "But I'm flexible, if you're up for it." Carson rolled his eyes.

"You may look like the villain out of a cheesy '80s high school movie, but you should know that I am fully prepared to go all Danny LaRusso on your ass," said Santana. "Admit you put something in that slushie. What was it, huh? Glass? Asphalt?"

"Yes, Sebastard, just what was it that you put in the slushie that was intended to hit _my brother_?" snapped Carson. "I need to know so that I can fucking sneak it into your goddamn food, you asshole."

"Red dye number 6," said Sebastian cooly, as though discussing the weather.

"You're a liar," said Santana.

"She questioned my honor," said Sebastian pompously, turning to the Warblers in disbelief. "I demand satisfaction in Warbler tradition."

"How about you give _me_ the satisfaction of shoving my foot up your ass?" muttered Carson.

"Kinky," said Sebastian, winking at him.

"I was going for _painful_," Carson shot back.

"You wanna have a duel?" asked Santana. "Cello guys, can you hang back for a second?"she asked, turning to a pair of cello players who Carson hadn't even noticed were in the room. "I'm gonna need you for this one."

"What the fuck?" asked Carson.

"Everyone else clear out," said Sebastian. "I don't want you to see me make a girl cry."

"Let's just keep this on point," replied Santana.

"Ok, can someone tell me just what the hell is going on here?" asked Carson. "What-"

The cello players started playing "Smooth Criminal," and Santana and Sebastian started circling around each other.

"You're having a fucking _sing-off_?" asked Carson in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

They were not kidding, it would seem. They sang the entire song while Carson watched them with his mouth agape, wondering when the hell this had become his life. _Seriously, Santana, we just came for a confession. Must everything be settled with song?_

"I was better," Santana said to Sebastian as they finished singing.

"You weren't even close," replied Sebastian, walking away.

"I was _better_," Santana insisted.

"I'm going to murder both of you in about five minutes," said Carson.

"Now tell me the truth," said Santana, following Sebastian and ignoring Carson. "What did you put in that slushie?"

"Rock salt," answered Sebastian nonchalantly."

"What the FUCK?" exclaimed Carson, walking over to Sebastian and grabbing him by the back of the blazer, forcing him to turn around and face him. "You put fucking _rock salt_ into a slushie that you were planning on tossing into Kurt's face? What is wrong with you, asshole? You are so lucky that it hit Blimpie and not Kurt, because I'm not quite sure that I would be able to restrain myself from-"

Santana elbowed him in the ribs, silently reminding him that this entire conversation was being recorded and that he might want to shut up so that the police didn't hear him making threats when they played the tape. Carson took a deep breath and settled for giving Sebastian his best scowl.

"Yes, it was rock salt," said Sebastian, turning back around and facing away from them. "But it's ok."

"_Why _is it ok?" asked Santana. "I just told you that Blaine had to have surgery!"

"It's ok because I didn't put anything in this one," Sebastian replied, turning to face them and tossing a slushie in their direction. Most of it hit Santana, the remainder splashing off of her and hitting Carson. Sebastian grinned, tossed the cup into a nearby garbage can, and strolled out of the room.

"I hate him," said Carson. "Not as much as I hate Banjo, but I hate him."

"This bitch is going down," said Santana, angrily wiping the dripping slushie out of her eyes.

_We got him, Kurtsie,_ thought Carson, gingerly running his finger through the slushie that had splashed on his hoodie. _We got him_.

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Carson said to Kurt the next afternoon as the Warblers filed out of the McKinley auditorium. He'd been so sure that Kurt had called the Warblers there in order to gloat that they finally had evidence against them to show the police, and Carson had been all set to point and laugh at Sebastian. Instead, he'd watched in horror as Kurt just handed Sebastian the very tape that should have been in the hands of law enforcement.

"I'm not kidding, Carson. We're not showing the police that tape," said Kurt with a shrug as he hopped down from the stage and walked over to him.

"Well yeah, not _now_! You just gave Chipmunk Face the damn tape!" exclaimed Carson. "I had to watch him and Santana sing a Michael Jackson duet in order to get that tape, Kurt. I almost died! And why don't you want to press charges against him? He was assaulting _you_! Brandon just got in the way."

Kurt closed his eyes and took Carson's hands. "I just...I want to be the bigger person. And I talked to Blaine about it, and he agreed that we shouldn't go to the police."

"I bet he did," muttered Carson. "Who would he sext with behind your back if Sebastian got put in juvie?"

"Carson, come on," said Kurt. "He's apologized for talking to Sebastian for so long. He promised he won't do it again."

"And you believe him?" asked Carson. Kurt looked down at the floor.

"I want to," he said. Carson sighed.

_I guess I should count it as a win that I still have two weeks without Benny to look forward to while he recovers from his damn surgery_, he thought. _Maybe I'll even enjoy glee club. Who knows?_

Yeah, right. Like _that_ was going to happen. The next week started off with Coach Sylvester calling all the glee boys into the choir room for a private meeting that Carson severely hoped he would be able to scrub from his mind sometime between now and when he left for Chicago.

"Twice a day, you boys stain your mother's drapes or befoul a gym sock that has to jump from the hamper straight into therapy," she said as she sat facing them in Mr. Schue's chair. "Why not head down to the clinic and put your virile teen years to good use? You'll have five bucks more than when you walked in, and the gratitude of lonely ovaries everywhere."

"What the hell?" asked Carson, terrified at what she was saying. "Are...are you asking us for our _sperm_? You're a teacher, doesn't that violate some kind of school policy? Who do I complain to in order to get you fired?"

"I am indeed petitioning you boys for samples of your baby batter," she replied casually. "But not you," she added, pointing to Artie. "You can keep tossing your tissues into the trash."

"I was in an _accident_," said Artie.

"Still. Same goes for you, Porcelain," Coach Sylvester continued, pointing to Kurt. "Let the strangeness end with you."

Carson crossed his arms and glared at her. "I know you didn't just imply that Kurt's sperm is undesirable. You'd be extremely lucky to get it. His kids would be gorgeous." He didn't even think about what he'd said until he realized that everyone in the room was looking at him strangely, most of all Kurt, who was blushing as red as a tomato.

"I'm gonna pretend that I didn't hear the extremely weird and creepy thing you just said," replied Sue before Mr. Schue walked in and interrupted the meeting, much to Carson's relief.

As if it wasn't weird enough that they were being asked for sperm, apparently Mr. Schue had decided that it was Spanish music week and had brought in David Martinez, the Spanish teacher from his night classes, in order to assist with the lesson. Carson didn't even bother asking why Mr. Schue had to take Spanish classes if he was a Spanish teacher already, because he was too busy being driven insane with jealousy at the way Kurt kept checking David Martinez out.

"You're going to bore holes in his head from the way you're staring," muttered Carson.

"He's hot," said Kurt.

"I beg to differ," replied Carson, sulking in his chair. Kurt smiled at him and patted him on the arm.

"Don't be jealous, Carsey," he whispered, leaning over to kiss him quickly on the cheek. Carson felt his face heating up.

_I'm not jealous, I'm just...protective. And...yeah, fuck, I'm jealous._

* * *

Kurt slumped against the choir room piano, hearing Sugar Motta talking about inviting the whole glee club to her Valentine's Day party, but not really listening. He was in such a funk lately, and he couldn't really explain why. He should have been happy. Blaine had come through his surgery just fine and his eye was expected to make a full recovery. They'd taken the high road with Sebastian. Kurt had been accepted as a finalist to audition for a spot at NYADA. He and Carson were both on their way to their dream futures, with any luck. So why did he feel so down?

The more he thought about it, the more he suspected that it had a lot to do with his ever more conflicting feelings for Blaine and for Carson. He was pretty sure he loved Blaine, but Carson...he wasn't sure there were even words anymore to describe how he felt about Carson. He supposed he could call it love, but that word didn't really feel right. He was certain that what he felt for Carson ran deeper than that. That kiss on New Year's Eve had opened up a whole other layer of his feelings that he hadn't even known he was capable of feeling. The spark he'd felt as they'd kissed was so intense he was surprised that the house hadn't burned down in the process. He'd never felt anything so powerful when he and Blaine kissed. It was nice, and it made Kurt feel wanted and loved, but it wasn't nearly as electric.

And aside from that, another nagging thought that refused to leave him alone was that Blaine didn't seem very excited or happy for him over his upcoming NYADA audition. Sure, he had congratulated him the day that Kurt, Finn, and Rachel had all been over at Blaine's house before his surgery, but Blaine had seemed a little indifferent as he acknowledged Kurt's good news. In fact, the topic of conversation had almost immediately changed to discussion about Michael week, and once Finn and Rachel left, Blaine had started begging for a blowjob. The subject of NYADA hadn't come up between them since. Whenever Kurt felt nerves creeping up on him and needed an ear to listen to him as he expressed his doubts and worries that he wouldn't be good enough for the school, he turned to Carson.

_I'm just being selfish_, he told himself. _I shouldn't expect Blaine to worry about my problems when he has so many of his own._

So he put it out of his mind and tried to focus on enjoying what was left of his senior year. It turned out to be surprisingly easy, since he found a Valentine card from Blaine in his locker later that day. It featured a cat wearing footie pajamas with hearts on the front, and said "_You're the cat's pajamas_" inside. It was signed "From your secret admirer."

_Oh, Blaine,_ thought Kurt giddily as he hugged the card to his chest. He wondered how the card had found its way into his locker, since Blaine was still in the hospital. Maybe Rachel was helping him.

"What the hell is _that_?" asked Carson, walking up to him and looking at the card with distaste. "Is that from Blitzen?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah...yeah, I guess it is," he said, placing the card into his bag and trying not to notice the sour look on Carson's face. "So, are you going to Sugar's party?"

"Um, no?" said Carson. "She said single people would be executed on sight."

"She did not," said Kurt, smiling and rolling his eyes. "You're such a drama queen. Just come with me, she won't say anything. Blaine probably won't be able to come, anyway."

"Did you just ask me out on a date?" asked Carson with a grin. Kurt felt his stomach do a flip.

"Yeah, I did. And surely you wouldn't reject your baby brother?" he replied, batting his eyelashes and sticking his bottom lip out. Carson sighed and shook his head.

"Well when you put it _that_ way," he said. Kurt smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

He got another card in his locker the next day, and the day after that. They were all sighed "Secret Admirer," and Kurt couldn't help but think how adorable they were. _Come on, Blaine, I know they're from you, honey. _The third card had even been accompanied by a Gorilla Gram and a bouquet of balloons.

"How appropriate!" said Carson with a sarcastic smile as the balloons were delivered to their table in the cafeteria. "A gift that's full of air, just like Buster!"

"Oh, Carson, stop," said Kurt. "He's doing well for someone recovering from major surgery."

"It was surgery to repair a scratched cornea, it was hardly major surgery," said Carson. "They should have removed his ego while they were in there. _That_ would have been major surgery."

Kurt couldn't do much except sigh and wonder for the millionth time why his life had to be so damn complicated all the time.

The Valentine cards continued arriving for the next two days, and Kurt just made sure to open them when Carson wasn't around. Thankfully, the Gorilla Gram guy hadn't come back, at least. Cards were easier to hide from Carson than balloon bunches and stuffed animals. He was about to close his locker on Friday afternoon and head for the hospital to give Blaine the Valentine card he'd made for him when a small envelope fell out and landed on his shoe. He picked it up curiously and looked at it. It was blue and said "To Kurt" in large, loopy handwriting on the front.

_That's weird_, he thought as he opened the envelope. _I already got Blaine's card today._ He removed the small card from inside the envelope and smiled. The front of the card featured a giant yellow sun against a clear blue sky. The sun had eyes and a smiling mouth, and the bottom of the card said "_You Are My Sunshine_." He opened the card and eagerly read the words inside.

_Dear Kurt,_

_I just wanted to let you know that I think you're beautiful inside and out. You make my life brighter every day just by being in it, and there's no words that can ever express how much I love, care for, admire, and adore you. I know I'm not your Valentine, but I hope you don't mind if I consider you to be mine._

_Love,_

_Someone_

Kurt fought not to start tearing up as he read and re-read the note several times. Not just because the words were beautiful (they were), but because he was pretty positive that he knew who had written them. Carson had obviously tried to disguise his handwriting, but Kurt knew him too well. He would still recognize it anywhere.

_Oh, Carson, baby_, he thought, sighing as he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of lockers while holding the card to his chest. _Honey, I don't know what to do._

He didn't even let on that he had found the card. He wasn't sure what he would say to Carson about it. If he pretended that he thought it was from Blaine, he knew Carson's feelings would be badly hurt, and yet he certainly couldn't let Carson know that he knew it was from him. So he said nothing. He just gently pressed the card into his senior year scrapbook when he got home that night, drawing a heart beside it with a red marker and stashing the scrapbook back under his side of the bed, right next to his wedding magazines. And then he made sure to snuggle extra close to Carson that night as they went to sleep.

_I love you too, baby_, he thought as he drifted off into dreams.

He was so preoccupied with that card and what it meant that he only felt a slight numbness when he arrived early to Sugar's party at Breadstix the next evening per the instructions on Blaine's latest card, only to discover that the cards and gifts he had been receiving all week long were from Karofsky, not Blaine. The realization that Blaine hadn't actually done anything for him for Valentine's Day barely had time to sink in after Karofsky left before he felt Carson sliding into the seat beside him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "Malerie called and got halfway through the plot of _Wuthering Heights_ before I finally managed to convince her to hang up. What did I miss? Where's Barney?"

"He's...he's not here," answered Kurt, trying to clear the fog in his brain. "He just got discharged this morning, so...I don't know, I guess maybe he isn't feeling up to it."

"I'm heartbroken," said Carson cheekily. Kurt smiled in spite of himself. He took Carson's hand in his and rested his head on his shoulder as the God Squad started performing the song Brittany had dedicated to Santana. He almost didn't even realize that he had been stroking Carson's knuckles with his thumb until he felt Carson start to do the same thing.

"I'm glad I'm here with you," Kurt said softly. "I can always count on you no matter what, and I just...I..." He wasn't sure what he was saying exactly, he just knew that Carson was so _close_ and he smelled really good, and he was even wearing a red hoodie in the spirit of Valentine's Day, and _oh my god_ how adorable was that, and it just felt so nice to be like this. Almost like they were on an actual date.

"Are you ok, Kurt?" asked Carson, frowning slightly. Kurt nodded.

"I just...I...I wanted to say..." Kurt swallowed. _Just say it, Kurt. Say you love him_. He couldn't get the words out, but his face was inching ever so slightly closer to Carson's, and he knew...he just _knew_...that they were going to kiss, and _oh god we can't kiss here, not here in the middle of Breadstix_...Carson's eyes were growing wide with shock and...anticipation, maybe? Kurt didn't know, but he knew he had no control over his lips right now and they were definitely going to touch Carson's any second unless something stopped them.

"Ok, everyone, it's time for my extra special guest!" said Sugar into her bedazzled pink microphone as the God Squad stopped singing. "Back from the dead and cute and compact as ever!" She gestured toward the restaurant's entrance, where a familiar figure turned around to face the guests.

"Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!" said Blaine as Kurt quickly withdrew his face away from Carson's and fixed his gaze up at the ceiling, biting his lip as Blaine ripped off his heart shaped eye patch and started singing "Love Shack." He chanced a glance at Carson, who was looking intently down at the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

"Guess Billy's made a full recovery," he mumbled. Kurt sighed.

"Yeah, I...I guess," he said as Blaine came up to them and shoved the microphone in Kurt's face, giving Carson a very brief, hard glare as he did so. It went by so quickly that it almost could have been missed completely, but it happened. And Carson glared right back at Blaine as Blaine pulled Kurt up by the tie. That happened, too. Kurt suddenly realized that he essentially had two men fighting over him, and he felt like he just wanted to disappear. Especially later that night when Blaine had practically thrown him down on his bed and climbed onto him, tearing off his clothes carelessly before Kurt could protest too much.

He was positive he'd breathed out "Carson" as he reached his release.

"Hmm, what?" asked Blaine lazily from beneath him.

Kurt bit his lip hard and tried to squelch the overwhelming hatred for himself he was feeling at the moment. "Nothing."

* * *

The week and a half leading up to Regionals was one of the most hectic weeks that Carson had ever experienced in his entire school career. With only two months left until graduation, the schoolwork was being piled on him and it seemed like it would never end. He would have to start studying for finals, like, last year if he wanted to do well on them. On top of that, he had the paper, the Writers' Club, such as it was, and the glee club, which, as usual, had yet to pick out their set list for Regionals. Carson didn't even care anymore. Let them skate by on songs they only pocked days ahead of the competition. He sometimes wondered if Kurt had ever found the Valentine card he left in his locker. He'd never seen Kurt with it, and the mystery of what happened to it weighed quite heavily on his mind.

Then Sebastian had apparently decided that it had been far too long since he'd fucked with them, because he had shown up at the Lima Bean one afternoon as Kurt and Rachel were looking through bridal magazines and Carson sat playing Angry Birds on his phone. He'd asked where "Gay Cyclops" was, and Carson hadn't been able to stop himself from snorting, because, well...it was funny.

"Was that a _smile_ directed at me, Hot Hummel?" asked Sebastian with a sly grin. Carson quickly straightened his face.

"_No_," he said. "I still am inclined to think that you're an egotistical ass," said Carson.

"My offer still stands, you know," Sebastian replied. "If you ever want to have some fun..."

"You tried to blind my baby brother, why the hell would I consider fucking you?" asked Carson. "Fuck off."

Sebastian shrugged and then handed Rachel a photoshopped naked photo of Finn, threatening to post it online if she didn't drop out of Regionals.

"Rachel...I think you should _totally_ sing at Regionals," said Carson with a big grin after he'd finally stopped laughing hysterically at the Finn photo. Rachel and Kurt had both given him withering stares.

"What?" he said. "I...I think..." he snorted and tried to catch his breath. "I think the photo is beautiful!"

So, for the most part, it had been a very busy week. And then to top it all, he'd woken up one morning to find Kurt sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand. He was sniffling, and Carson was instantly alarmed.

"Kurtsie?" he said, rushing to sit beside him and place his arms around him. "What's wrong?"

"Mercedes called," said Kurt between sniffs. "Karofsky tried to kill himself yesterday."

"Oh," said Carson, not sure what to say. "That's...I mean, is he ok?"

Kurt nodded. "He'll live. I just...oh, Carson, I feel like it's my fault."

Carson hugged him tight, stroking his hair as Kurt cried softly into his shoulder. "Kurtsie, no. It's _not_ your fault. Why would you even say that?"

"He asked me out on Valentine's Day," said Kurt. "Those cards, the Gorilla Grams, the balloons...those weren't even from Blaine, they were from him. And I turned him down, of course, and now...now this."

Carson sucked in a breath. He didn't say any of the million things that had just popped into his head at this revelation. He just held Kurt as he finished crying, and then they'd gotten ready for school, and Kurt hadn't seemed to want to talk anymore, so Carson had respected that.

Karofsky's attempted suicide had cast a pall over the whole glee club. It seemed everyone had been affected by it in some way, and Carson really couldn't understand why. Even Sebastian seemed to have been affected by it, calling them to a meeting at the Lima Bean and essentially profusely apologizing for being a raging dickhole for all the time they'd known him. It was weird.

Carson briefly wondered if maybe he should feel more sympathy, and then he remembered the months of torturous hell that Karofsky had put Kurt through. How he'd caused so many bruises and nightmares and tear-filled nights that Carson had watched Kurt go through. How he was the entire reason that Kurt had gone to Dalton, and the reason the pox known as Blaine Anderson had entered their lives and refused to leave.

_You know what? Nope. I feel no sympathy for him. _He decided he would skip the next glee meeting and hold an impromptu meeting of the Writers' Club with Malerie instead. He stared out the window at the pouring rain as Malerie recounted the major plot points of her latest "short story," which was actually _A Series of Unfortunate Events_. It had been raining a lot this week. He'd have to remember to start carrying an umbrella if there were going to be a lot of spring storms.

"Malerie," he interrupted her gently as he saw Kurt hanging by the door to the journalism classroom. "I, um...how about we call it a day?" She nodded and closed her notebook, gathering her camera and giving him a wave as she headed out of the room. Kurt smiled at her and came inside, shutting the door behind him. He looked depressed.

"Are you ok?" asked Carson. Kurt hesitated for a minute, then shook his head.

"We were talking in glee," he said as he perched himself on the edge of Carson's desk. "About...about Karofsky, and..." He sighed and lightly kicked his feet against the desk. Carson reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"Kurt, I know you're still upset and you think it's your fault, but baby, I promise you, it wasn't. You had zero obligation to him when he asked you out, which I _still_ can't believe he did. He made your life hell. He beat you, he sexually assaulted you, he terrorized you and drove you out of your own school. He threatened to _kill_ you, Kurt. What were you supposed to do, just forget that happened? He made his choices, and none of them were your fault, ok?"

Kurt was silent for a minute and then he locked eyes with Carson. "It wasn't just that, it was...I mean, I don't know what's wrong with my brain, but the whole time we were talking in the auditorium I just kept thinking about what would happen if I ever lost someone I care about really deeply, like...like Dad, or Blaine, or...or _you_...and I guess I just..." He let out a shaky breath. "I just had a moment where I imagined how terrible I would feel." His eyes started to fill up with tears, and Carson was on his feet in an instant, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Kurt, please stop thinking that way. You won't lose any of us. Not for a long time, ok?" he soothed, rubbing Kurt's back slowly. He shivered slightly as he felt Kurt shift and plant a soft, warm kiss right on his neck.

"I love you," he whispered. Carson smiled when he'd caught his breath again.

"I love you, too, Kurtsie."

* * *

Kurt glanced out the choir room window at the pouring rain, wondering where Carson was and trying not to worry too much. He knew Regionals was today, he would surely show up soon, right? Kurt had popped into the journalism classroom briefly after the last period of the day, and Carson had been hunched over his laptop. He'd apparently spent the whole afternoon boxing up all the unsold copies of the literary magazine (which was nearly all of them). The classroom was littered with boxes.

"I'm just finishing up a few articles for the paper, and then I'm going to drive to Sunny Pastures and drop these off," Carson had said, indicating the boxes. "They're pretty much just taking up space, and if I don't do it now I'll end up forgetting and they'll just lay around here until we graduate. At least at the home they'll be read. Or chewed."

"Ok, but don't be late coming back for Regionals," said Kurt. "Oh, and take your umbrella with you, ok? It's supposed to rain."

"Yes, _mom_," teased Carson.

That had been four hours ago, and Kurt hadn't heard a word from Carson since he'd left the classroom. It was getting really close to showtime, too. Like, dangerously close. And Carson hadn't answered any of Kurt's calls or texts.

_Stop worrying, stop worrying, stop worrying_, Kurt repeated to himself. _You're always teasing Carson for worrying, so don't you start too. He's fine. I'm sure he's fine. Yeah, it's raining, but...I mean, he's a careful driver. He'll be here any minute. Aaaany minute._

Ten minutes later, Kurt had progressed from worrying to full on panicking. He'd called Carson several more times, only ever getting "_Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."_

"Where is he?" he asked to no one in particular. "Why hasn't he shown up?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Kurt," said Blaine, putting his hands on Kurt's shoulders from behind. "He'll be here before the competition starts."

"It's raining, Blaine!" said Kurt, shrugging Blaine's hands off of him. "It's a freaking mess out there! It's pouring and thundering and lightning! And he hasn't answered any of my calls, and that's not like him. His car is a useless piece of shit. What if he's been in an accident or something? What if he's laying dead in the road somewhere? Oh god, and I never...I never told him..."

"Never told him what?" asked Blaine, frowning. Kurt shook his head.

"Nothing, Blaine, just...I'm really worried, and he _never _does this! He always calls or sends a text, and...and..." Kurt felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes. "Where _is_ he?"

"Kurt, he's probably fine," said Blaine. "Maybe he got held up."

"Oh god, I didn't even think about that!" exclaimed Kurt, misunderstanding what Blaine meant. "What if he's been robbed at gunpoint? What if-"

That was the moment Carson finally entered the choir room, looking soaked to the bone but otherwise very much alive and well.

"Carson!" Kurt exclaimed, knocking down several chairs and a stool in his hurry to throw his arms around him. "Carson, oh my _god_! Where were you? I was so worried, and it was raining and I didn't know if you'd been hurt, and you didn't answer your phone, and _why didn't you call me and tell me you'd be late, you bastard_?"

"Whoa, Kurtsie, baby, you...you're shaking," said Carson quietly as he hugged Kurt back. "I'm fine, honey. I didn't answer my phone _because_ it was raining. I can barely drive that death trap when it's sunny outside." Kurt felt his hands on his back rubbing soft circles as Carson placed a gentle kiss to his temple. "I'm fine," he repeated softly. "I'm ok. I've got you."

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," Kurt ordered as he hugged Carson tighter to him. "I thought you were dead."

They stood in the corner of the choir room for several minutes like that, ignoring everyone around them. Kurt caught Santana giving them an interested look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it. Screw her. He'd just had a scare and he was in no mood.

"I hate to interrupt this, um...happy little reunion," said Blaine's voice, which was laced with a slight irritability, "But the competition starts in five minutes and we need to be in our seats. And you have to be in costume," he added, speaking to Carson. "So..."

Carson kissed Kurt's hair once more and patted him gently on the back before prying himself loose from his grip. "Yeah, ok. I'll be back, Kurt, ok? I'm just gonna go change and then I'll meet you in the auditorium." Kurt nodded and watched him go, letting out a sigh of relief. Carson was still alive. Kurt hadn't lost him.

"Come on," said Blaine, grabbing him by the wrist and almost dragging him out of the choir room behind the rest of the club. "Let's go find our seats."


	20. Chapter 20

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! Ok, so, here we are with a new chapter. We've pretty much almost made it through season 3 now, so can we get a hallelujah? We know it's been a long road through the Glee canon, and we're glad you've stuck with us/put up with us thus far. Just bear with us a little bit longer, ok? There's MUCH more of this story left to tell. And as always, we love our readers like everybody loves Kurt's shiny gold pants.**

**Let's read now!**

Carson turned out the lights in the journalism classroom and headed down the hallway, hoping to catch up with Kurt before the next period. He had a completely free afternoon in front of him after school, and he thought maybe Kurt would want to do something together. If Carson could catch him without the hobbit, maybe he would want to. Kurt had been increasingly clingy with Carson lately, ever since Regionals. He'd apparently really thought Carson was dead when he was late, and it had clearly shaken him up. Carson made a mental note next time to call him. He understood what it was like to worry like that, he just never thought that Kurt did it.

He was trying to make more of an effort to reach out to Kurt. There were only so many more weeks left until graduation, and then they would only have the summer together before Carson moved to Illinois and Kurt moved, come hell or high water, to New York. Their time together was running out and was therefore becoming increasingly more precious. Carson didn't want to go to Chicago full of regret that he had let his extreme aversion to Blaine ruin the last few months that he would get to spend with Kurt for a very long time. So, he'd been trying to hang out with Kurt more and hide in the journalism classroom less. He'd even started trying not to miss any Glee meetings.

He would probably have to start carrying Pepto Bismol tablets around with him at all times, though. Seeing Kurt and Blaine together having Big Loving Moments always tended to make him sick to his stomach.

He turned the corner of the hall and immediately spotted Kurt ahead of him. Unfortunately, he was with Blaine. _Fuck_.

"You ok?" Kurt was asking Blaine as Carson drew closer. "You seem a little preoccupied."

"Ah, well, my brother's in town," replied Blaine.

_"Y_ou have a brother, Binney? That's nice. Though, if he's anything like you, I bet your parents wish they'd have learned how to use condoms sooner," said Carson as he fell into place beside Kurt and gently took his hand.

"He's picking me up and taking me out to lunch," Blaine continued, addressing Kurt and giving an icy glare to Carson as he spoke. Carson's ears perked up. Ok, this was actually good. If Blaine was going to be spending the afternoon with his brother, then Kurt would be free to...well...do the same.

"Blaine, that's exciting!" said Kurt as they arrived at his locker and he spun the lock expertly. "I finally get to meet this mysterious brother of yours, who you refuse to talk about. I'm dying to know what he looks like."

"I'm dying to know whether or not those eyebrows run in the family," quipped Carson. Kurt gave him a warning look, and Blaine just ignored him.

Blaine chuckled nervously. "Oh, trust me, you already know what he looks like."

"Fuck, you're not a twin, are you?" asked Carson, horrified by the possibility.

"Blainie!" came a voice from behind them. A slightly familiar looking guy was approaching them, and from the way Blaine shouted "Hey, Coop!" and let the guy hug him, either Coop was another one of his secret sext partners or he was Blaine's brother. Carson assumed the latter.

"I guess the eyebrows and the hobbit height don't run in the family," said Carson as he and Kurt watched the brothers hug. "Perhaps Byron's mom had an affair with a caterpillar. Or he's adopted." He turned to Kurt to see how his joke had gone over, but Kurt hadn't been paying any attention to him. He was staring open-mouthed at Blaine's brother the way he usually stared at a sign advertising a sale at one of his favorite stores.

"This your boyfriend here?" Blaine's brother asked him, holding out his hand to Kurt.

"Yes, it is," answered Blaine. "Kurt, this is my brother, Cooper Anderson." Kurt took Cooper's hand and shook it, his eyes still wide as saucers. Carson hung back and sighed. _Fuck, there's TWO Andersons now that Kurt thinks are attractive for some reason. Fuck my life._

"Nice to meet you," said Cooper.

"Oh my god, you're the guy from the Free Credit Rating Today commercials!" exclaimed Kurt, still shaking Cooper's hand.

"Guilty as charged," said Cooper with a smile. Carson frowned. So _that_ was why Cooper looked so familiar.

"I _love_ those commercials!" Kurt squeaked in excitement. "The jingle's my ringtone!"

"I hate those commercials," muttered Carson. Cooper looked over at him and smiled.

"Am I seeing double or are you a twin, Kurt?" he asked. Kurt was still shaking Cooper's hand and looked momentarily confused.

"Hmm? Oh..._oh_!" he said, shaking his head. "Yes, this...this is my brother, Carson."

"Nice to meet you, Carson," said Cooper, managing to pry his hand away from Kurt in order to shake Carson's. Carson took it gingerly, trying to make as little contact with it as possible. He didn't want Anderson germs rubbing off on him.

"Pleasure," he said. "I've got to say, I don't see the family resemblance between you and Brunswick." Cooper chuckled, opening his mouth to say something when Coach Sylvester came up and took Cooper aside for a chat.

"Blaine, why didn't you tell me your brother was famous?" asked Kurt, watching as Cooper talked with Coach Sylvester.

"I don't know, I...I guess I just forgot," said Blaine, looking uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I can see how something like that could slip your mind," said Carson dryly, frowning as Kurt gazed adoringly over at Cooper, who was autographing Coach Sylvester's boob. _Ugh, gross_.

"Do you think he'd sign _my_ chest?" asked Kurt. Blaine frowned. Carson looked at Kurt in disbelief.

"He doesn't need to touch your chest. Ever. For any reason," said Carson, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice. "One Anderson doing that is enough," he added in a low voice. Kurt squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. Carson couldn't fucking _wait_ until lunchtime for Cooper to take Blaine away. Far, far away.

But first, he had to sit through a glee club meeting in which Cooper came to speak to them and inform them that he was planning on teaching them a "Master Class" in acting the following day. Whatever the fuck that meant. _Seriously? A master class for what, exactly? Your biggest claim to fame is a series of annoying commercials for a scam website,_ thought Carson bitterly. He was extremely unamused, since Kurt was still fanboying over Cooper like he was an actual celebrity that mattered. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Carson then had to watch Cooper and Blaine perform a mashup that would probably have made Duran Duran cry tears of sorrow if they had been in attendance. It quickly became apparent that Cooper was just as much of an attention whore as his younger brother, perhaps even more so. Blaine certainly didn't look happy to be sharing the spotlight with a bigger and more experienced showoff, that was for sure.

_Well, I guess Buckingham isn't adopted. Attention whoring most definitely does run in the family. But at least Bridgely is miserable. That's something._

"So, we all decided on Six Flags for Senior Ditch Day," Kurt said to Carson that afternoon as they drove home together in the SUV. "You're planning on coming with us, right? It'll be so boring if you aren't there."

"Definitely," said Carson, perking up at the thought of spending a whole day with Kurt somewhere that wasn't school. "Someone has to be there to hold your scarf when you get sick from the rollercoasters."

"I do not get sick," protested Kurt. "I just get...queasy."

"You get sick," insisted Carson. "Do I need to remind you of the Great Upchuck Incident of 2007?"

Kurt crossed his arms and pouted. "That was different. I'd just eaten, and how was I supposed to know that coaster was going to be quite so intense?"

"Tell that to the poor little girl who got her nice outfit covered in your barf," said Carson. "Although, I still say she was lucky."

Kurt blushed. "You're the worst."

"Nah, you love me."

"If you're lucky," Kurt mumbled in reply, but Carson could see the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

* * *

Kurt hesitated outside the weight room, having a silent debate with himself over whether he really should do what he was about to do. He didn't really want to think about Carson's reaction if Blaine came along with them to Six Flags, even if the rest of the non-senior glee members were also going. But ever since Blaine's brother had come to town, Blaine had been extremely withdrawn, moody, and cranky. He hardly ever smiled, and had basically been ignoring everyone, even Kurt. Kurt thought maybe a day away where he didn't have to think about Cooper would do Blaine a world of good. He would feel like a horrible boyfriend if he didn't at least try to get Blaine out of his funk.

So, he poised himself and pushed open the door of the weight room, ignoring the smell of teenage boy that invaded his nostrils as he entered. Blaine was there alone, clad in his workout gear and boxing gloves, aggressively attacking a punching bag that Kurt assumed was Cooper's face in his imagination.

"Hey, honey," Kurt said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. "Making...um...progress?"

Blaine gave him a brief glance and grunted out an incoherent reply as he continued punching. Kurt decided to get straight to the point.

"Um, about Senior Ditch Day," said Kurt carefully, "we, uh...we all decided on Six Flags."

"That's nice," said Blaine absentmindedly, his fists swinging.

"Everyone is going. The whole glee club, I mean. Not just the seniors."

"Uh-huh."

"So," said Kurt, wondering if maybe this was a bad idea after all, "Did you maybe want to join us?"

Blaine shook his head and continued punching. "Not really. I don't feel like it."

"Are you sure?" asked Kurt. "It might do you some good to get out for awhile, and, you know...forget about stuff."

"_No_," said Blaine irritably, punching the bag harder. "I _don't_ want to go. _You_ go, ok? Hang out with Carson. Have fun."

Kurt looked at him carefully and nodded. "Well, just remember it's not until tomorrow, so you have time to change your mind if-"

"I JUST SAID I DON'T WANT TO GO!" Blaine shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the weight room as he gave several hard, unrelenting punches to the bag in front of him. Kurt jumped back in shock. Blaine had never yelled at him before, and the look in his eye was downright frightening.

"Fine...o-ok.." he stammered, backing away toward the door. "Ok." He opened the door with shaking hands and practically ran down the hallway, not even consciously realizing that he was headed for the journalism classroom until he was right outside of it. He stood outside the door for a minute collecting himself before he walked in, trying to look normal.

"Hey, Kurtsie," said Carson, his eyes glued to his laptop as he clacked away at the keyboard. "What's up?" Kurt crossed over and settled himself behind him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Nothing," he said, inhaling the scent of Carson's hair. He may not have been a fan of hair products like Kurt was, but his hair always smelled clean and fresh. It was comforting. "What are you working on?"

"An article nobody's going to read for yet another edition of the _Muckraker_ that nobody is going to read, to add to the huge pile of articles that nobody will ever read," replied Carson as he typed. "But at least nobody can say I'm a quitter."

Kurt smiled. "You excited for Senior Ditch Day tomorrow?"

Carson nodded. "You bet. I've even got a bedazzled barf bucket all ready and waiting, just for you. For when you get sick on the rollercoasters you insist on riding despite my objections."

Kurt snorted and bopped him playfully on the arm. "Oh, stop."

"No, I mean it," Carson insisted, ceasing his typing so that he could grasp Kurt's hand in his own. "I've got the bucket and I've got the motion sickness pills all ready to go." He brought Kurt's hand up to his mouth and gave it a tiny kiss.

"You're the best," said Kurt, kissing Carson's hair.

"I know."

Blaine still hadn't changed his mind by the following morning, not that Kurt asked him again. He was too nervous about what his boyfriend's reaction would be. It was probably best just to leave him alone until Cooper left town and the whole thing blew over. It was just as well that he didn't come, anyway, Kurt thought, because he and Carson had a wonderful time all on their own. Kurt was leaping onto his back the second they entered the park gates, wrapping his arms around his neck and bouncing up and down excitedly.

"Carry me!" he ordered, knowing Carson would be happy to comply. He did, grabbing onto Kurt's legs and hoisting him up piggyback style as everyone else tried to decide what to do first.

"I think we should find the food first," said Puck.

"I disagree, Noah. I think we should get the roughest rides out of the way first, so that we don't get sick," argued Rachel.

"I can't believe I'm about to agree with Trollberry, but...I agree with Trollberry," said Carson. "Rollercoasters first."

Rollercoasters it was. They rode three of them in succession, and Kurt hopped off the third one all set to rub it in Carson's face that he had _not_, in fact, gotten sick, when he felt a familiar, unpleasant feeling deep in his stomach.

"Carson," he groaned. Carson immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic shopping bag, which he smoothed out quickly and handed to Kurt. He said nothing as Kurt used the bag, not even "I knew it" or "I told you so." He just rubbed his back gently, took the bag from Kurt when he was finished, and handed him a motion sickness tablet and his water bottle.

"Better?" he asked as Kurt swallowed the water. Kurt nodded.

"Much," he replied. Carson smiled and put one arm around Kurt's shoulders as he tossed the shopping bag into the nearest trash can.

"We should probably stick to the lame rides for the rest of the day. Or until your stomach calms down," he said. "Although, now that I think of it, I wish I hadn't thrown away your barf bag. I should totally have handed it to Trollberry without telling her what it was."

Kurt snorted. "You are entirely too much."

Carson grinned. "I know."

* * *

"You know," said Carson as he held the door of the music store open for Kurt and waited for him to enter first, "I never knew we even had a sheet music store here. It seems like the kind of place that would have been put out of business by the internet years ago."

"Nope," said Kurt, wandering over to a rack of music and running his fingers absentmindedly over the covers. "Besides, I can't rely on the internet for sheet music for this. I need the perfect song for Whitney Week, and I won't know the perfect song until I feel it in my hands."

Carson smiled and shook his head. "And I'm here why, exactly? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love spending time with you, but you know I don't know much about sheet music. Or music in general. I'm not going to be much help."

"Oh, I know that, silly," said Kurt, picking up a book of Whitney Houston sheet music and flipping through it casually. "You're here for me to talk at. I need to voice my ideas out loud as part of my process, and I look dumb if there's no one there. Like I'm talking to myself."

Carson nodded. "Makes sense." He thought about asking him why Blaine didn't come with him, but decided he didn't want to look a gift horse (the horse being an afternoon spent alone with Kurt) in the mouth. Besides, he had a feeling all was not right with his twin's relationship. Kurt had been spending a lot more time with Carson lately rather than with Blaine, and as much as Carson loved it and silently rejoiced the fact that Kurt wasn't coming home late every night with hickeys adorning his neck like some sort of sick branding, he hoped that Kurt wasn't feeling too depressed over that idiot.

He glanced down at the book in Kurt's hand. "So what song were you planning, anyway?"

"I don't know," Kurt mused, flipping through the book. "There are so many choices, and a lot of them were so very obviously written for me. It will be hard to decide."

"Excuse me?" came a voice from across the store. A boy was approaching them, his eyes wide and a smile on his face as he looked at Kurt in awe. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but that hippopotamus head brooch is awesome!"

"Thanks," said Kurt, giving him a small smile.

"That whole outfit is amazing," the boy added. "You must get compliments all the time."

"I try," said Carson in a monotone, crossing his arms and looking their guest up and down. He didn't like where this was going. Total strangers flirting with Kurt was definitely up there on the list of things that were not ok.

"Well, other than from him, I don't, actually," said Kurt, patting Carson on the shoulder. "Kurt Hummel," he added, holding his hand out to the boy.

"Chandler Kiehl," the boy introduced himself, shaking Kurt's hand. "I go to North Lima High. I've got an audition next week, and I'm dying to do "Rainbow High" from _Evita_, but the guy just said they're sold out, which is a preposterous lie!" he said in the direction of the clerk behind the counter, who ignored him.

"Yeah, well, shit happens. Best of luck to you," said Carson pointedly.

"What are you auditioning for?" asked Kurt. Carson sighed inwardly. _Kurt, come on. He doesn't want to talk about his audition, he wants to talk about having your babies. Not that I blame him, but come ON._

"Uh, the musical theater program at NYU," answered Chandler.

"That's so funny, I'm auditioning for NYADA," said Kurt. "My callback is in a couple of weeks."

"NYADA callback?" Chandler repeated. "Ooh-la-la! What song are you doing?"

"I'm not sure," said Kurt. "I have to find the perfect Whitney Houston song."

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Chandler, running out from behind the rack of music he had been standing behind to get closer to Kurt. "You must do "One Moment In Time." Whitney's performance at the '89 Grammys was legend, and no one has done that song justice since!"

"But then again, there's also "All The Man That I Need," replied Kurt before Carson could open his mouth to say "Thanks for your opinion, now bye."

"Oh my god, that song is amazing! You must do it!" exclaimed Chandler with a big grin, bouncing up and down on his heels. "Finally, a love song where it didn't have to hurt to turn out right. Sorry, am I being really loud? When I get excited, I tend to start yelling."

"Yes," muttered Carson.

"No, no, you're just really enthusiastic," replied Kurt, elbowing Carson lightly in the ribs. Carson could practically hear him thinking _Don't be rude, Carsey. "_It's refreshing. Infectious, actually."

"Then, I should quit while I'm ahead," said Chandler.

"Yeah, that would be best. Door's that way," Carson said, pointing helpfully in the direction of the store's entrance.

"Nice to meet you, Kurt Hummel," said Chandler, shaking Kurt's hand again, as if Carson hadn't spoken. "I'm sure you'll nail whatever song you pick."

"Thank you," said Kurt.

"And good luck with your NYADA callback. Let me know if I can be of any help," Chandler added. "We future New Yorkers gotta stick together."

"Yeah, no, that won't be necessary," said Carson.

"Can I get your number?" asked Chandler. _Oh my GOD, is this bitch for real? No, you can't have his number, why don't you just go and-_

"Sure," said Kurt, taking his phone out of his pocket as Carson's mouth hung open. "Here, put your number in my phone and I'll put mine in yours. Then if I need any help with my song choices, I'll get in touch with you."

"Awesome!" said Chandler, taking Kurt's phone and handing him his. Carson watched in disbelief as they exchanged numbers and then Chandler left the store with a grin, a wave, and an enthusiastic "Adios!"

"Ok, what the fuck just happened?" asked Carson, shaking his head as if he would wake up from whatever bizarre dream this was if he just did it hard enough. "Did you seriously just give that guy your number?"

"Yes," said Kurt, placing his phone back into his pocket. "Why not?"

"Um, because he was practically undressing you with his eyes, that's why," replied Carson, his arms crossed. "It's bad enough when Baylor does it, let alone some random guy."

"Oh, Carson, he was _not_," said Kurt, sighing in exasperation. "He was just being nice and offering to help me with my audition, that's all. And if he felt like complimenting my outfit while he was at it, then, well...he's more than welcome. It's nice to be complimented sometimes."

"What do you mean?" asked Carson. "I compliment you all the time."

Kurt smiled. "I know you do, sweetie, and I love you for it. But you're biased," he said, giving Carson a kiss on the cheek. Carson felt himself blushing to the roots of his hair.

"I am not," he protested. "I'm just the only person around you most of the time who isn't completely stupid, or blind. Speaking of which, doesn't Bilsby give you compliments?"

Kurt looked down at the book of sheet music he was still holding and ran his fingers over the spine. "Know what? I'm getting this," he said, ignoring Carson's question and walking up to the counter, leaving Carson to answer it himself.

_I'll take that as a no._

* * *

Carson watched, half in fascination, half in utter jealousy, as Kurt spent the next few days being bombarded with dozens of text messages from Chandler, most of which contained extremely cheesy pick-up lines, and most of which had Kurt smiling and stifling giggles as he read them.

"Oh my _god_," Carson said one afternoon as he and Kurt sat beside each other on the living room couch working on their homework. Kurt's phone on the coffee table had buzzed with a text message, and Carson had caught a glimpse of it before his twin picked the phone up. "_Do you have a library card, because I'm checking you out?_ What the hell? I knew he was only trying to pick you up, but seriously, this is, like, the lamest way he could go about it."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he picked up the phone. "I think they're funny, Carsey. And sort of cute and sweet, in their own way."

"I think they're stupid," mumbled Carson. "I mean, not that I blame him for trying, because hello, have you seen yourself? But come on, he only met you for five minutes."

Kurt blushed at the compliment. "They're just funny texts, Carson. It's not like we're sexting, and it's not even like I'm flirting back. I have a...Blaine." Carson scowled at the mention of Blaine and tapped his pencil against his notebook thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well...I still don't like it," he muttered. Kurt smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"I think they're amusing. And I can't really tell him to knock it off without hurting his feelings," said Kurt. "He'll get bored eventually and stop. And until then, well...the compliments are nice."

Carson shrugged. "I guess," he mumbled.

"Aaaaw, Carsey, you know I love you the most," teased Kurt in a mock baby voice, putting the phone down and hugging Carson around the shoulders, pressing their cheeks together.

"And I love you the most," Carson conceded, tapping the tip of Kurt's nose lightly with the eraser end of his pencil.

The texts from Chandler continued to pour in, and Carson severely hoped that Kurt was right about him getting bored eventually and quitting, because some of the texts he caught a glimpse of almost made him want to vomit from their cheesiness. _Seriously, guy? "If I received a nickel for every time I saw someone as beautiful as you, I'd have five cents"? Do you just look this shit up on the internet before you send it to him? I mean, not that I blame you. I really, really do not. Kurt's hot. He's also kind of my world, and I don't take kindly to other people trying to take away my world, no matter how pathetic the attempt._

He didn't have time to worry about Chandler the next night, because Blaine came over to watch a _Being Bobby Brown_ marathon with Kurt, and Carson didn't know what was worse. The TV show, or the fact that Blaine was up there in his and Kurt's bedroom, probably planning to do god only knew what with Kurt. Carson shivered at the thought as he sat at the kitchen table with his laptop. _I have an ear out, hobbit. Remember that. At the first sign of shenanigans, your balls are mine to hang above the fireplace. _

"Make sure Beetle Bailey keeps his hands to himself," he said to Kurt as his twin came into the kitchen to fix a cheese plate. "The only part of your body he's allowed to touch in that room anymore is your face, and only if he's washed his hands."

"Oh, Carsey," said Kurt with a chuckle. "Come on, honey, we've been through this. I promised you we wouldn't...well...that we wouldn't have a repeat of a few months ago," he finished vaguely. Carson felt the ghost of a nervous stomach at the mere memory of what he had walked in on that day, and he swallowed.

"Yeah...see that we don't," he said, focusing on his laptop screen so that Kurt wouldn't see his gritted teeth. Kurt took the cheese plate upstairs and Carson sighed, resting his head against the keyboard for a second before sitting back up and reaching at the collar of his T-shirt for his glasses. His hand touched nothing but fabric.

_Crap. Must have left my glasses upstairs_, he thought, getting up from his seat and heading upstairs, hoping that all he would see when he walked into the room would be Kurt and Blaine sitting on opposite ends of the bed with the cheese plate between them.

"Then talk to me," he heard Blaine saying as he approached the bedroom door. "Tell me you're unhappy, but don't _cheat_ on me."

_Say what?_ thought Carson, thoroughly confused. _He's gotta be talking about the TV show, right?_

"I feel like I have taken crazy pills!" Kurt shouted as Carson entered the doorway. "I didn't cheat on you!" He crossed the room to where Blaine stood and snatched something out of his hand that turned out to be Kurt's phone upon further inspection. Carson suddenly had an uneasy feeling in his gut.

"Ok, what the hell is going on in here?" he asked, walking into the room and looking back and forth from Kurt to Blaine. "I know you didn't just accuse Kurt of cheating, hobbit," he said, glaring at Blaine.

Blaine glared right back at him. "_Not_ that it's any of your damn business, but just out of curiosity, what would you call dozens of flirty texts between him and some guy named Chandler that's been going on behind my back for days? Hmm? Because I call that cheating," he said, his voice growing louder with every word.

"Oh yeah? And I call it harmless," retorted Carson. "He's just some clueless guy Kurt met at the music store, and Kurt was too polite to tell him to buzz off. So why don't you calm the fuck down? And incidentally," he added, feeling his blood pressure rising with every word he spoke, "I also call it no worse than what you, yourself, were doing with Sebastian not two months ago, so don't you fucking dare go off on Kurt for "cheating," because if this was cheating than you, my dear hobbit, cheated first."

Blaine rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Wow, Carson leaping to Kurt's defense no matter what he's done. _What_ a shock. Maybe a few flirty texts should be the least of my worries, hmm? I don't know, maybe I should just learn to deal with having a boyfriend who will throw himself at _literally _anyone." His eyes were glinting as he directed that last part at Kurt, who stepped back slightly in shock, and Carson seriously had to restrain himself from punching Blaine right in the face.

"Ok, asshole," Carson said in a low, dangerous voice, placing himself in front of Kurt and glowering at Blaine. "I'm not going to let you talk to him like that. Not at any time, in any place, and _especially_ not in this fucking house, in this room. You need to leave. Right the fuck now," he said, pointing toward the door. "Go. _NOW." _Blaine stared back at him and threw his hands up in the air.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I'm gone. Have fun." He gathered his jacket and left the room, slamming the door behind him, and Carson heard a small, shaky sigh coming from behind him.

"Hey," he said, turning around and gently cupping Kurt's face in his hand. "You ok?" Kurt looked at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and shook his head. He leaned against Carson, and Carson wrapped his arms around him tenderly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"It'll be ok, Kurtsie," he whispered soothingly.

"I didn't cheat on him," Kurt said quietly. "That wasn't cheating."

"I know," said Carson, rubbing his back. "I know, baby. He's just an asshole." He felt Kurt stiffen against him and take a deep breath.

"No he's not, Carson," he said. "He's just...he overreacts, but...I don't know. I kind of just want to go to bed now."

Carson nodded, resisting the urge to sit Kurt down and list all the ways in which Blaine was a pompous fucker who didn't deserve him. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. "Ok," he said with a sigh.

"I know it's early, but will you lay with me?" asked Kurt, pulling away from the hug and looking at Carson with wet eyes. Carson closed his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he said softly, giving Kurt a small smile. "You get ready, and I'll close my laptop down and come back up."

"Ok," agreed Kurt, dabbing at his eye with one finger as he went into the bathroom. Carson went back downstairs and closed his laptop, noting that his spiral notebook had been tossed onto the floor since he'd been upstairs. No one else was home, so he was willing to bet Blaine had done it on his way out.

_Asshole_, he thought as he picked up the notebook and the laptop and headed back upstairs. _Fuck you and fuck the day you ever entered our lives._

* * *

Kurt sat in the choir room the next day, waiting for glee to begin and feeling extremely glum. He'd tried all day to approach Blaine and make some sort of an apology, but Blaine had refused to talk to him and had been actively avoiding him. Kurt didn't know what to do. On one hand, he was pissed that Blaine would even think that he would cheat, and it kind of hurt that he was admonishing Kurt for something that he himself had done before. No matter what Blaine said, Kurt knew that his conversations with Sebastian had probably _not_ been "family friendly," as his boyfriend had claimed in the heat of their argument the night before. There was no way they could have been. On the other hand, he still felt really bad for making Blaine so upset. He wished he'd never exchanged numbers with freaking Chandler now. He should have listened to Carson.

"You ok?" asked Carson, taking the seat beside Kurt and squeezing his hand as Kurt sighed deeply. "You holding up alright?"

Kurt nodded, tearing his eyes away from where Blaine sat several rows in front of him. "Yeah. Long day." He squeezed back and tried to force a smile for Carson's sake. _Thank god for Carson. I honestly don't know what I would do without him. At least I know someone always has my back no matter what._

Mr. Schue finally entered the choir room and began glee, and Blaine immediately raised his hand from his seat.

"Mr. Schue, if I may?" he said. "I have a song I've prepared for our Whitney Houston assignment."

Mr. Schue smiled and gestured to the middle of the room. "Great! Floor's yours, Blaine," he said, taking a seat in the front as Blaine got up. Kurt looked at him with interest. He'd had no idea Blaine had been working on a song.

"Great, just what the world needs, another Benny solo," muttered Carson from beside him.

"This song is for anyone who's ever been cheated on," declared Blaine as the band started to play, throwing a hard stare Kurt's way. Kurt felt Carson's grip on his hand getting slightly tighter and his own face growing red.

"This is insane. I did not cheat on you!" he exclaimed, his heart thudding as he realized what song the band was playing. Surely Blaine wasn't going to humiliate him like this in front of all his friends, right? _Right_?

Wrong. Blaine started earnestly singing "It's Not Right, But It's Ok," and Kurt just wanted to disappear as he felt everybody in the room putting the pieces together and staring at him in disbelief. _Oh my god, Blaine, stop! This is embarrassing. I didn't even cheat on you, come on! I would never do this to YOU._

Kurt glanced over at Carson and instantly wished he hadn't, because his twin's face was practically a smoking volcano of rage. He was glaring at Blaine as if he would happily kill him where he stood, and nobody would be able to stop him. He caught Kurt's eye and let go of his hand, patting him gently on the back of it before setting his jaw and getting up from his seat. He marched right into the middle of the room where Blaine was performing and addressed the band. _Oh god, Carson, please...don't make this any worse._

"Stop...STOP...STOP THE DAMN MUSIC!" Carson shouted, waving his arms at them. "Stop it for a minute. Thank you." He turned to Blaine and gave him a murderous look.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, you jackass?" he practically spat, his face red with anger.

"Carson," Kurt called weakly from his seat. "Carson, please...don't..."

"No, Kurt," said Carson, his eyes still focused on Blaine. "He's not going to get away with humiliating you like this. I've had enough."

"Sit down," ordered Blaine. "I'm not finished."

"Oh, I think you are, asshole," said Carson angrily. "Where the hell do you get off, singing that bullshit song and embarrassing Kurt like this? I really should kick your ass right here, and you know what? Not only are you an asshole, you're a hypocritical asshole. Kurt did _not_ cheat on your ass. He didn't do anything that you yourself haven't fucking done before, but you know something? I almost wish he _had_ cheated, because you don't deserve him. You never have and you never will. He's too good for you."

Kurt felt a very conflicting flurry of emotions swirling within him at Carson's speech. He really wanted Carson to stop, but at the same time it felt really good being defended so forcefully. The rest of the club was looking at Carson in awe, especially Santana, who was actually smiling.

"Carson, why don't you go take a break?" said Mr. Schue, getting up from his chair and placing a hand at Carson's back. Carson angrily shrugged it off and scoffed.

"Yeah, you know what? Good idea," he declared, shooting a killer look at Blaine. "I should go before I explode Hair Gel's guts all over the choir room." He stalked out of the room, and everybody sat in complete silence for several minutes, contemplating what had just happened. Kurt felt everyone's eyes on him, including Blaine's and Mr. Schue's, and he wished for the floor to just open and swallow him up. He was more embarrassed than he'd ever been, and in that moment he wasn't sure he even liked Blaine. He quietly got up from his seat, grabbed his bag, and held his head high, trying to at least act dignified as he walked out of the choir room, even if he didn't feel dignified at all.

"Carson?" he called into the almost empty hallway as he exited the room. He wandered down the hallway, heading instinctively for the journalism classroom. If he knew his twin like he thought he did, he was sure Carson had probably gone there to cool down.

He was right. He arrived at the classroom's open door to find Carson inside, seated at his usual desk with his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving up and down with deep breaths. Kurt settled his bag into a nearby chair and crossed the room, settling himself delicately into Carson's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck as Carson's hands automatically wrapped themselves around Kurt's waist.

"Thank you," Kurt said softly. "For standing up for me."

"I'm sorry if it embarrassed you more," said Carson. "I just...I couldn't just sit there and let him publicly humiliate you. He had no right."

Kurt nodded. "It's ok, Carsey. Really." He hugged Carson's neck tighter and just sat there, feeling the thud of Carson's heart against his own and the firm, protective grip of his hands around his waist. He almost wished they could stay there like that forever.

"Why do you stay with him?" asked Carson quietly, breaking the silence. Kurt sighed.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, reaching one hand up to stroke Carson's hair. "It's complicated."

He really didn't know. He hated living with such a firestorm of complicated and conflicting feelings, but that was his life now. He loved Carson. Blaine might not have been perfect, but Kurt loved him, too. Or, at least, he thought he did. There were no clear answers. He had no idea who he was really aiming his rendition of "I Have Nothing" at the next day. He would be lying if he told himself it was entirely about Blaine, because it wasn't. Some of the lyrics made him think of Carson and only Carson.

* * *

Things weren't quite the same with Blaine after Whitney Week, even though they had talked through their problems with Ms. Pillsbury. Blaine had confessed that he'd been acting cold and distant because he didn't want Kurt to leave for New York next year and had been practicing for when he was alone. Kurt had apologized for talking so much about leaving, and they'd hugged it out, everything seemingly forgotten. But to Kurt, making up with Blaine didn't exactly feel like a relief. It felt more like reattaching the chain around his ankle, which was attached to the iron ball that was Blaine. He hated that he felt that way, but he couldn't help it, no matter how much he tried to squash the feeling. He didn't want to think about the fact that, like it or not, he really didn't want to be with Blaine anymore. And that doing something about it wouldn't be easy.

He didn't want to think about that, so he didn't. He threw himself headfirst into preparing for his NYADA audition, which was swiftly approaching and would be happening within days. He had settled on "Music of the Night" from _The Phantom of the Opera_, but he really wasn't sure that he was making the right choice. It felt too safe and boring, and he worried that the NYADA recruiter wouldn't be too terribly impressed. They probably heard that song from prospective students all the time.

"I don't know," he said to Blaine one day after rehearsing the song in the school auditorium. "My entire future is riding on this audition. It has to be perfect."

"Kurt," said Carson from his seat one space removed from Blaine, "It _will_ be perfect. Did you hear yourself? You were born to sing that song."

"What if I sequined my cape? Or if I sang it in German? Or if I did it in the nude?" mused Kurt, toying absentmindedly with his Phantom mask.

"What?" said Blaine. Carson glared at him.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, hobbit," he practically growled. Things between Carson and Blaine hadn't gotten any better since Whitney Week, either. "If you have so much as a thought of him naked in your mind right now, I will rip your brain out through your nose."

"Oh? And how do you plan to enforce that, Control Freak? I can think what I want. My mind is my own," retorted Blaine.

"Guys, come on," said Kurt pleadingly, wishing that both boys didn't always insist on sitting in on his practices. Sometimes he thought he'd be better off if he and Tina just practiced without an audience. "Please, can we all be civil? I'm seriously having a problem here. I've always been ahead of the curve, and my audition needs to show that. And right now, it's too safe. It's too predictable. It's boring. I'm _bored_!"

"I think you're overthinking it," said Blaine.

"You know what? No, I think Kurt is right," said Carson. "You're right, Kurt. I love the song and you sing it beautifully, but maybe you should start thinking outside the box. Give them something they've never seen before. Something that will make you stand out."

"Excuse me," interrupted Tina. "My foot fell asleep. I can't feel it at all. Can I go walk it off?"

"Yeah, sure," Kurt said, waving her away. "Just don't go too far. And thanks." Tina smiled and scurried off the stage, looking only too happy to be going. "Alright, I'm starting from scratch. Carson, you're right. I need something fresh. I need something edgy. Something completely unpredictable." He looked around the stage thoughtfully. "Or maybe I just need more candles."

"Oh, god, no," said Blaine. "No more candles."

"Why? Are you flammable or something?" asked Carson. "Not that I would be surprised, considering the six hundred pounds of hair gel you use on a daily basis. I'm shocked your hair hasn't burst into flames just from being in this room. Does your family own stock in the hair gel factory or something?"

Kurt sighed. He would seriously have to start rehearsing alone. But, first things first. He needed an unpredictable, edgy number to impress the NYADA recruiter, and he needed it _yesterday_. He invited Blaine to come over that very afternoon so that they could pore over Kurt's sheet music collection and hopefully find something that would guarantee him a spot at that school.

"Um, where are you going?" Carson asked from the living room couch as Kurt started to lead Blaine upstairs. Kurt hadn't expected him to be home so early. Maybe it wasn't one of Grandma's better days.

"Upstairs," replied Kurt.

"Why?" asked Carson, looking from him to Blaine suspiciously.

"Because I keep all my sheet music in the bedroom, Carsey, and he's going to help me pick out an audition song," Kurt answered truthfully. "We promise, no shenanigans. Scout's honor." He heard Blaine scoff beside him and ignored it. Carson narrowed his eyes in Blaine's direction.

"Fine. But just you know, Beyonce, I'm going to go sit in the kitchen. Right next to the very sharp knives," replied Carson. Kurt stifled a giggle and Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Noted," muttered Blaine under his breath as Kurt grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. "Freaking noted."

"Ok," said Kurt as they entered the bedroom. Blaine sat on the bed while Kurt rooted around under it for the box in which he kept his ever-growing collection of sheet music. "Remember, we need something fresh and completely different from anything NYADA has seen before."

"Right," said Blaine in a bored voice as he started looking through the music in the box. "What about something from _Rent_?"

"Nah," Kurt said, shaking his head. "I bet that's pretty overdone, too."

"_Sweeney Todd_?"

"Not sure I'm really feeling that, and it wouldn't show off my range enough," said Kurt.

Blaine sighed and picked up a sheet at random from the box. "What about this?"

Kurt looked at it. "Not The Boy Next Door?" Oh my god...maybe...maybe this is it!" he exclaimed excitedly. Yes...yes, this could be the very thing he was looking for. He doubted that any prospective NYADA student had ever braved a pair of gold lamé pants for their audition before. And it would provide him with plenty of opportunity to show off both his voice and his dancing. He took the sheet music from Blaine and caressed it as if it were his personal Holy Grail.

"Blaine," he whispered, "This...this is it. This is totally it! I need to do this for my audition! It's perfect!"

Blaine grinned. "Great! It's everything you're looking for. It's edgy, it's fresh, I bet no one has ever seen it before."

Kurt grinned. "I know. Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Me too, sweetheart," said Blaine, leaning in for a kiss. "I know you'll kill it."

"Thank you," said Kurt, allowing Blaine to move his lips down to his jawline and start sucking. "Mmm...Blaine...as nice as this is, we can't really..." His words were cut off by Blaine's lips back on his as his boyfriend crowded his space and started guiding him to lay down. "Mmmph..._Blaine_.."

"But you're so hot," Blaine protested quietly, stroking Kurt's arm with one hand while holding the other to his chest to keep him pinned down. "And it's been awhile."

"_Blaine!" _Kurt whispered in a panic. "We can't do anything, ok? Carson is right downstairs!"

"We'll shut the door. He'll never even know," Blaine insisted. "We don't even have to get undressed. I can be quiet, and you can...um...keep your mouth occupied," he said, giving Kurt a hopeful smile. Kurt gasped and shook his head vigorously. There was no way he was going to do that with Carson right downstairs. No freaking way.

"Blaine, _no_. I will _not_ blow you in this room, especially not with my brother right downstairs!" he admonished him, tying to push Blaine off of him so he could sit up.

"Come oooon," Blaine pleaded.

"Blaine, _no! _Let me up!"

Blaine sighed. "God, Kurt, who _cares_ if he's downstairs? We'll be quiet! He'll never even know. Just...come on."

"Blaine, no...stop," Kurt insisted, pushing harder at Blaine's shoulders. "Not here. Get off of me..._BLAINE_!" he almost shrieked as Blaine grabbed his hand and guided it toward the front of his pants.

"Feel that, Kurt? That's for you," said Blaine, holding tight to Kurt's struggling hand. "Just a really quick blowjob. Please?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"Blaine, I SAID NO!" Kurt shouted, really panicking now. "Let me up! LET ME UP!"

Blaine sighed and got up off of him, sitting upright again on the bed. Kurt sat up and was about to ask him what the hell he'd been thinking when Carson suddenly marched right into the room, his face full of rage. He ignored Blaine completely, grabbing Kurt firmly but gently by the arm and pulling him up, leading him out into the hallway without a word.

"Carson, what...it wasn't.." Kurt babbled, his brain still trying to process what was happening here. Carson backed him up against the wall outside the bedroom and pinned him there, his hands firmly on either side of Kurt's shoulders as he crowded into him and stared him straight in the eyes.

"Make. Him. Leave," Carson growled, his eyes dark with anger.

"What? I.." Kurt started to protest. Carson's hands traveled down to Kurt's waist and grabbed him, pushing slightly until the slight bit of space between Kurt's back and the wall was closed, and their bodies were practically pressed up against each other. Carson was so close that Kurt could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"You're just going to take that?" Carson asked, his eyes glinting as they stared into Kurt's. "You're really going to sit there and let him treat you like that? Let him try to force himself on you, like you're just a piece of meat to him?"

Kurt tried to catch his breath, which wasn't easy, considering how extremely turned on and slightly frightened he was by what he was experiencing at the moment. "Carson, I-"

Carson shook his head, his grip on Kurt's waist getting tighter. "No, Kurt. No. Make him leave. Now. Make him leave, or _I_ will make him leave, and I promise you, it will be very ugly."

Kurt sucked in a breath as he stared into Carson's eyes. There was a forcefulness there that he'd never seen directed at him before. He was still gripping him by the waist and pinning him against the wall, and it was _hot, so hot_, and he was having a very hard time breathing. He felt rather than saw Blaine come out of the bedroom, since his eyes never actually strayed away from Carson's.

"B-blaine," he managed to stammer out, his gaze locked firmly on his twin. "I...I think you should go." _Oh god, please go, I seriously think he will kill you if you don't._

Blaine scoffed. "Of course. Why the hell am I not surprised?" He strode right past them and down the stairs. Kurt heard the front door open and close, and Carson still hadn't moved, but his hands had. They had regretfully left Kurt's waist and were now resting on the wall on either side of him, still pinning him in place but not touching him directly anymore. His body was leaning in closer, and eventually they really _were_ pressed up against each other, Carson's chest directly against Kurt's and..._oh god_...their groins touching as they stared at each other, breathing heavily. Kurt was drowning in feelings he had no idea what to do with, and something snapped inside of him as his instinct took over. He made to wrap one leg around Carson's waist, but Carson had other ideas. He placed his hands back on Kurt's waist, guiding him backwards toward the open bedroom door.

_Oh my god, oh god_...thought Kurt frantically. He felt his dick hardening in his pants as the back of his legs hit the bed and he fell backwards onto it with a small squeak of mattress springs. Carson was leaning over him, one hand on either side of Kurt's arms, and their eyes stayed entirely focused on each other. Kurt bit his lip, wanting so badly to have control over his actions right now, but knowing it was useless. His head was full of visions of everything that could possibly be happening on that bed within a few minutes, and he was just about to spread his legs in invitation when Carson seemed to snap back into himself. He stood up, his eyes taking in Kurt sprawled on the bed, and he started forcefully shaking his head.

"No, I...I...I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry." He turned and rushed out of the room, leaving Kurt still on the bed, alone and trying to regain his normal breathing and heart rate. He wasn't being very successful. It was all so much, too much. His brain was swimming and his dick was straining against his pants, and he simply couldn't handle all the emotions flooding him at once. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he hurriedly unzipped his pants and pulled himself out, not caring that the door was still open, or how filthy it felt when he spit into his hand. He stroked earnestly, his eyes closed as he imagined Carson above him, all around him, moving inside of him. It was weird, he'd never bottomed with Blaine, never. He'd always been too afraid to surrender that control to him, not after what had happened at Scandals, but with Carson...Kurt could easily imagine giving himself to him completely.

He continued working himself over, his fantasy of Carson making love to him completely taking over his senses, and he was completely unprepared for the way his orgasm slammed into him, the sheer intensity almost making him pass out. He moaned loudly, Carson's name dancing on his lips, but not exactly leaving them, as he pumped himself through it. He collapsed in an exhausted heap as the waves of pleasure subsided, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he recovered from his orgasm.

Outside in the hallway, he heard Carson doing the same.

* * *

Carson had absolutely no idea how to be around Kurt for the next few days. He was still trying to process what had happened when Blaine came over. It was like something had completely taken over Carson's body. All he was trying to do was rescue Kurt from Blaine and force him to stand up for himself, but somehow things had gotten completely out of control after Blaine had left. They'd ended up in the bedroom, and Carson had been leaning over Kurt on the bed. He'd been so ready to kiss him, or even do more, but fortunately he had stopped himself before it could come to that. He wasn't emotionally ready for that. And the way Kurt had been looking at him...like he was expecting something to happen...like he _wanted _something to happen. It was almost like Santana had been right all along.

It was that thought that made Carson leave the room, but he hadn't gone far. He'd only stepped out into the hallway and pressed himself up against the wall, trying to regain his breathing. And then he had heard Kurt. Heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Heard his heavy breathing and his moans and his incoherent muttering. And Carson hadn't been able to stop himself from reaching into his own pants. He only hoped that Kurt hadn't realized he was there.

Now he wasn't sure how to act around Kurt. He wanted to talk about what happened. He _needed_ to talk to Kurt about what happened, but he just couldn't bring himself to. He wouldn't even know how to bring it up if he tried, so he didn't. It was much easier just to try to pretend that it hadn't happened at all. Not that he'd seen much of Kurt the past few days, anyway. His twin hadn't hung out with him very much (or, as far as Carson knew, with Blaine) since that day. He had been engrossed with rehearsing for his NYADA audition and had requested time to practice without an audience. Carson was secretly relieved. Since he really only saw Kurt at bedtime lately, it was easy to put recent events out of his mind. Sort of.

Now it was the day of Kurt's audition, and Carson was about to head into the auditorium to watch. He was nervous as hell, probably even more nervous than Kurt himself. This was the big moment. Kurt's future hinged on this audition. Carson had no doubt that he would blow whatever song he had chosen out of the water, but he really hoped that this wouldn't turn out like all the other times that people had failed to recognize his talent.

He entered the auditorium to find Mr. Schue and Blaine already sitting in their seats, waiting for Kurt to go on. A stern looking woman sat in Mr. Schue's usual seat, looking thoroughly unimpressed with her surroundings. Carson gulped. He hoped she was smart and could recognize greatness when she saw it. He took a seat in the row behind Blaine and folded his hands nervously in his lap.

_You can do it, Kurtsie. I love you. I believe in you. You deserve this._

"Kurt Hummel," the stern woman barked. Kurt came out onto the stage, looking slightly nervous in his _Phantom of the Opera _costume. Carson frowned. Maybe he'd decided to go with "Music of the Night" after all.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'll be performing "Music of the Night," from the seminal _Phantom of the Opera_ by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber...which I bet you hear a lot of. That song."

Carson sat up with interest. _What are you doing, Kurtsie?_

"That, "The Impossible Dream" from _La Mancha_, and "Being Alive" from _Company_, yes," the woman replied in a bored voice.

Kurt nodded. "It's a safe and standard choice, which is why I've decided to change things up a bit." He whipped off his Phantom mask and smiled nervously. "Here, in the eleventh hour, I've decided to go in a different direction. Something that's a little more out there, but much more me. "Not The Boy Next Door," from the Peter Allen bio-musical _The Boy From Oz_."

Carson sat up even straighter. He wasn't familiar with that song, having never heard Kurt sing that particular one before, and he was very intrigued to see where this was going. Kurt took off his cape and handed it to Rachel off-stage. "Ladies?" he said as Tina, Mercedes, and Brittany entered from the opposite side of the stage. "I had my swans on stand-by," he joked with the woman, who remained stoic and unmoved. Music started to play and Kurt began to sing. Carson smiled and watched him move across the stage, trying to send all the positive vibes he could in his twin's direction.

And then everything changed.

Kurt ripped off his Phantom suit to reveal a second outfit underneath, consisting of a black shirt and...well, what could really only be described as painted-on pants. They were shiny and gold, reflecting the stage lights in an almost blinding fashion, and they were so tight that Kurt might as well have been naked from the waist down. If Carson didn't know any better, he would have thought Kurt had dipped his legs in liquid gold. His ass _and_ his dick were pretty much on full display, and Carson's dick was extremely interested.

_Oh...my...FUCKING HELL...oh dear god, Kurt, are you trying to kill me? Why would you wear...what...I don't understand...HOLY FUCKING SHIT, THOSE PANTS, I just...I...I can't...oh god you're really going to have to stop rolling your hips like that, because...shit. Shit shit sit._

Carson couldn't even gather together the brain cells necessary to care that he was sitting in the middle of the school auditorium with a raging erection. He was too mesmerized by Kurt's performance as his twin danced around the stage like a big pile of sex. He said a silent prayer of thanks that he was sitting behind everyone and therefore could just casually slip his bag in his lap. He didn't even try to get his dick to go down. Hell, he couldn't even concentrate on the performance toward the end. He was much too busy entertaining thoughts of running his tongue over Kurt in those pants, and-

The song ended and everyone was silent as they waited for Stern Woman's reaction. She didn't say anything for a minute, and Carson took the opportunity to think of every gross thing he could come up with in order to get his erection under control.

"You know," she said finally, "Hugh Jackman won a Tony Award for playing Peter Allen." Kurt nodded vigorously in agreement, his eyes wide as saucers as he waited for the verdict.

"Hugh trained with me the summer I was in residence at the Sydney Opera House," the woman continued. "And I'm certain that he would have been...as impressed with what you did with that song as I am. A bold choice, young man. I congratulate you for taking such a risk today."

Carson felt himself smiling like a complete fool as she finished talking, and up on the stage, Kurt was doing the same. "Thank you!" Kurt squealed in excitement. "Thank you," he said again to the three girls on stage. He skipped adorably offstage, and Carson breathed a huge sigh of relief. His dick had gone down, and it looked like Kurt had nailed that audition and was well on his way to NYADA.

_I'm so proud of you, Kurtsie_, he thought happily. _So, so proud._

* * *

Kurt spent the next few days following his audition mostly doing a lot of thinking, and not about NYADA or New York. He was thinking about his relationship with Blaine. Specifically, he was thinking about how much he really didn't want it to be a relationship anymore. At least, not a romantic one. He had spent a lot of time alone, without either Carson or Blaine around, in order to gather his thoughts and turn them over and over in his mind, examining the situation from every angle.

On one hand, he really did have feelings for Blaine. They may not have been as strong as they once were, but they existed. That he couldn't deny. On the other hand, he also had feelings for Carson. He couldn't deny that, either. He also couldn't deny that the feelings he had for Carson were much stronger...had been steadily becoming _more_ strong every day...than the ones he had for Blaine. Simply put, he had finally come to the point where he had to admit to himself that he loved Carson more than Blaine. And he wanted to be with him.

And then there was the fact that he sometimes got the impression that his feelings and security came second in Blaine's eyes. Like the fact that Blaine tended to get sullen and dismissive whenever the subject of NYADA and Kurt's future came up. Or the fact that Blaine seemed to have an innate inability to listen when Kurt said no, as evidenced by what had happened in the bedroom that fateful day. It always seemed to be about what Blaine wanted and needed, and Kurt's wants and needs were constantly being put on the back burner. It was never like that with Carson, and it never had been. They always shared in each other's joy and disappointments equally. Kurt knew that Carson would move heaven and earth to make him happy, and Kurt wouldn't ever hesitate to do the same for him. If that wasn't love, well...what was?

The last straw for Kurt happened a few days before prom. He and Blaine and Rachel were having an impromptu meeting in the auditorium (mostly to comfort Rachel on having choked on her NYADA audition), and the subject of prom came up. Kurt had been thinking about it, and he really didn't want to go. Not after what happened last year. Every time he thought about the possibility of being nominated for prom queen and utterly humiliated a second time, he broke out in a cold sweat. He mentioned this to Rachel and Blaine, and Blaine had seemed far more concerned with the fact that Brittany, as student body president, had banned the use of hair gel at the prom. Kurt didn't want to feel like he was being selfish or anything, but he had kind of expected just a little bit of understanding from his boyfriend, who, after all, had been there last year when Kurt was humiliated in front of the entire school and had seen how much it devastated him. _Carson _had completely understood when Kurt had explained why he didn't want to go.

"I don't blame you, Kurtsie," he'd said. "I don't want to go either, but unfortunately it's a new rule this year that all student council members are required to be there. Whatever, though. I'm just going to spend the whole time sticking Post-It notes on people's backs."

So Kurt had taken one more night to think it over. And as he lay awake into the wee hours of the morning, basking in the feeling of Carson's arms around him and of being completely safe, loved, and wanted, he came to a decision. He was going to have to end things with Blaine. The sooner, the better. Sure, it wouldn't be easy. And it would probably take him an even longer time to work up the courage to tell Carson how he felt. But it would be a baby step in the right direction. A way of hopefully starting his future on the right note.

"Blaine?" he said to his boyfriend the following afternoon as glee club let out and everyone filed out of the choir room, leaving them alone. Carson, thankfully, had skipped glee to get the latest edition of the _Muckraker_ ready for publication. "Can, um...can we talk?"

Blaine looked at him curiously and sat back down. "Sure. What's up?"

Kurt took a deep breath and sat down beside him, turning to face him. His stomach was in knots and he felt like he was going to throw up at any second, but he knew this had to be done. "I, um...well, this isn't exactly going to be easy to say."

"Kurt, what is it?" Blaine asked, sounding slightly worried. "Just say it. Whatever it is, it can't be _that_ bad."

Kurt locked eyes with him and tried to get his stomach under control. "Well...it's really hard for me to say this, and I...I just...I don't know of any other way to do it but just to...to do it." He heaved one more deep breath and took Blaine's hand in his. "Blaine, you know that I...that I care for you. Right?"

Blaine nodded. "Of course. I care for you, too."

"Right," said Kurt, wishing there was an easier way to do this, preferably one that didn't involve them being in the same room. "Well, see, the thing is...I...I _care_ for you, but I...I don't...I don't think that I..."

"Kurt?" asked Blaine, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Look, Blaine, what we have...us...it's just...it's not working anymore," said Kurt, feeling awful as he said it, but knowing it was for the best. "At least, it's not working for me."

Blaine frowned. "Kurt, what are you saying?"

Kurt looked him in the eyes and tried to be as gentle as possible. "Blaine, I don't think we should be boyfriends anymore."

Blaine looked taken aback, his face forming a slight frown as his brown eyes locked on Kurt's. "Kurt...Kurt, no. You don't mean that."

"I'm really sorry," said Kurt, squeezing his hand. "I am, I just...Blaine, I can't do this anymore. It just doesn't feel right. _We_ don't feel right. I don't feel like you really understand me or...or care..."

"How can it not feel right?" asked Blaine, his eyes filling with tears. "We're soulmates, Kurt. You...you can't just break up with me like this. You _can't_. I love you! I...I can't survive without you."

"Oh, honey," said Kurt, patting him gently on the shoulder. "You will. I promise. You'll find someone else. Someone who will love you just as much as you love them."

"No, Kurt, you don't understand," said Blaine, full-on crying now, which was only making Kurt feel worse. "You're the love of my life. You can't just abandon me, not after all I gave up for you. I left my school, my friends, everything...it was all for you. You can't do this!"

"Blaine, I didn't force you to do that. Please don't make this any harder than it has to be," Kurt pleaded. "I'm sorry, but I can't continue with this...this relationship...when I don't feel the same way I did before. It's not fair to either of us."

"But _why_?" Blaine whined, grabbing at Kurt's forearms desperately. "Kurt, I know I haven't been the best boyfriend. I...I can change. I'll be better, just please don't leave me. You can't!"

"I have to," Kurt insisted, trying not to cry himself. "You may not realize it now, but it's for the best." He tried to gently shrug his arms free from Blaine, but Blaine only tightened his grip and pulled him forward.

"Kurt, no," he said through his sniffles. "You _can't_ do this. I...you mean too much to me. I won't let you go." His grip was so tight now that his nails were practically digging into Kurt's skin.

"Blaine, you're hurting me," he said. "Let go."

"I love you, Kurt."

"Blaine, _please_ let go," Kurt insisted.

"Not until you promise not to leave me," said Blaine. "This isn't fair, you were supposed to be mine. Not anyone else's. _Mine_."

Kurt shook his head. "Blaine, I can't promise you that. This isn't easy for me, either, honey, but it has to be done. I can't be with you anymore."

Blaine looked at him for a long minute before he loosened his grip on Kurt's arms, but didn't entirely let go of them. "Kurt, I'm begging you, here. You _can't_ leave me. I won't...I won't let you." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I love you. I love you so much. Why won't you give me just one more chance?" he pleaded. "I promise, Kurt, I'll be so good for you. I'll be the best boyfriend ever, just...just _please_. I'll be all alone if you leave me. I don't have anyone else. You're all I have." Kurt felt a surge of guilt coasting through his stomach at Blaine's words, especially combined with the way his boyfriend's eyes were practically drooping like a lost puppy's. "It's going to be hard enough losing you to NYADA, I can't survive if you abandon me _this_ way on top of it." He sniffed and choked back his sobs, and Kurt felt absolutely terrible.

"Blaine, I..." he began, not sure what to say. He felt like the world's most horrible person right now, like he was kicking a sick baby. Blaine threw his arms around him and hugged him tight, so tight that Kurt was having a hard time breathing.

"Kurt, I love you, and I will do anything it takes to keep you," Blaine said through sobs. "Literally, _anything_. I'll die before I'll let anyone else have you. Please just give me one more chance?"

Kurt sighed as he hugged him back, knowing even as his arms made to wrap around Blaine that this whole breakup idea had just blown up in his face. Clearly, he wasn't meant to ever be truly happy. He couldn't go through with hurting Blaine like this. He would feel guilty forever if he did.

"…..Ok," he said dejectedly as he patted Blaine gingerly on the back. "I'm sorry. Ok."

_When am I ever going to get to do what feels right for me?_

* * *

Prom, Carson decided as he leaned up against the gym wall and sighed in boredom, was a complete and utter waste of everybody's time. He couldn't _wait_ for this night to be over with. He didn't even want to be at prom in the first place, but unfortunately, since he was on student council, he was required to be there. It was a new rule this year. He would rather have been literally anywhere else, especially since it was entirely his fault that prom was being held in the school gym and not the local banquet hall, as had been the council's original plan. He had sort of pissed off Coach Sylvester during a meeting between her, Figgins, the student council members, and the superintendant several months ago, and off-campus privileges had been revoked for everybody for the rest of the year because of it. He was surprised he hadn't been buried alive by his fellow council members.

He didn't even have Kurt to distract him from his utter boredom. He, Blaine, and Rachel had organized what they were calling an "Anti-Prom" party at Lima's best hotel, and were hanging out there instead of at the prom. Carson tried very, very hard not to think about the fact that his precious Kurt and the fucking hobbit were going to be spending most of the night in a hotel room together. Even if Rachel and Puck, plus that Becky chick from the Cheerios were there, he didn't trust Blaine not to get all handsy and start trying shit with Kurt.

_I swear to god, the next time he tries anything, any fucking thing, I'm not going to hold myself back. I'm done with that bullshit. He hurts Kurt, he loses his dick._

He kicked his feet lazily against the wall and wondered if anyone would miss him if he snuck out of the bathroom window. He was seriously considering it when he happened to glance toward the gym entrance and saw Finn entering with Rachel, and, behind, them, Kurt and Blaine. Carson's face lit up at the sight of Kurt and he practically knocked down several students in his hurry to greet his twin.

"Kurt!" he exclaimed happily as he approached them, throwing his arms around his brother. "You came!"

"Yeah," said Kurt, hugging him back. "Finn convinced us."

"I'm so glad you guys came," said Brittany, walking up behind them.

"Better late than never, right?" said Finn.

"Come on, let's dance," said Rachel, dragging Finn away as some of the glee boys started singing some boy band-ish song up on the stage.

"No, no, Blaine," said Brittany, "I said no hair gel, remember? I can totally smell it!"

Carson grinned at him, nodding in agreement as Santana dragged Brittany away to dance. "You heard the woman, Buckley. Hair gel is strictly forbidden at this prom. Think of the dinosaurs."

Blaine glared at him. Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder and patted it gently. "You can do this," he said. Blaine sighed and shuffled off in the direction of the bathroom.

"Oh my god, remind me to get my camera out when he comes out of there," said Carson gleefully. He grabbed Kurt by the hand and began leading him over to the dance floor. "Come on, Kurtsie. Let's dance!" Kurt grinned and nodded, letting Carson lead him. Carson felt just a little bit stupid dancing to a fast song like that, but he didn't care. He was at his senior prom (against his will, but whatever), and he was dancing with the most beautiful boy in the world. Who cared if Blaine was still a toxic mold on the rest of his life? He was going to seize the brief, happy moments that he was able to.

And it _was_ all too brief. Blaine eventually emerged from the bathroom, every last bit of hair gel eradicated from his hair, and walked up to them. Carson had to really fight to keep from laughing hysterically, because he looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh my dear god," said Kurt, his hand flying up to his mouth.

"Oh my _god_," said Carson, biting his lip to keep from giggling. "Please tell me there's a family of birds in there. I'd hate for such a huge, bushy nest to go to complete waste."

"Don't make fun of the new kid with the bad fro," said Brittany as she came up to them. "It's hair bullying."

"That's not a new kid," replied Kurt. "That's Blaine without hair gel."

"Is it really that bad?" asked Blaine, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. Carson nodded.

"It's terrible," he said with a cheeky grin. "Absolutely terrible."

"Yeah, you're Mr. Broccoli Head," said Brittany.

"It's not _that_ bad," said Kurt, clearly trying to be comforting.

"Yeah, it is. It's really bad," said Brittany. "You were right. I abused my power as president. But, to help save the prom, and to keep people from turning to stone when they look at you, I'll give you special permission to wear hair gel immediately."

"Aw, come on," Carson protested. "Not fair. Rules are rules, Brittany. I say he shouldn't be allowed to wear it."

Blaine gave him a look that would have cracked glass if there had been any in the vicinity, as Figgins took to the stage to begin the proceedings for crowning the prom king and queen.

"Come on, Boy Hummel," said Brittany, grabbing Carson by the arm and dragging him over toward the stage. "Student council has to stand up front while the nominees are announced." Carson sighed and allowed himself to be dragged. He really couldn't wait for prom to just be over already. He fidgeted impatiently as Figgins read off the list of nominees for king and queen, feeling absolutely terrible for Kurt when his twin was called up on stage to help crown the new winners. He looked really embarrassed, and Carson knew he was probably reliving the memory of what happened last year.

_It's ok, Kurtsie. Only a little over a month and you'll be free of this place._

After Finn and Rachel had been crowned prom queen and king (to Carson's utter amusement and horror), Quinn and Santana took the stage and began singing a pretty decent rendition of "Take My Breath Away" as the various couples in the gym began slowly swaying to the music. Carson sighed, returning to his spot against the wall by himself as he watched Kurt and Blaine dancing, Blaine looking like the cat that got the cream and Kurt looking slightly forlorn but still happy. Carson would have given anything to be Blaine right then, holding Kurt in his arms as the music played and the tacky decorations glittered in the dim light. He wondered what would happen if he walked up and asked to cut in.

_What's stopping you? Come on, Carson. Carpe diem. You know he's got to feel SOMETHING for you, so...what's stopping you from at least having a little bit of happiness? It's just one night. Bingo will have him for a long time, apparently, but you have to take the moments you can get. Go on. Cut in._

Before he could stop himself, he strode across the gym, reaching Kurt and Blaine and steeling up his courage as he cleared his throat.

"So sorry to interrupt," he said, pasting a smile on his face, "But does anyone mind if I cut in?"

Blaine gave him a look of disbelief, while Kurt's eyes widened in surprise.

"I _do_ mind," said Blaine, at the same time as Kurt said "I don't mind." Blaine gave Kurt an odd look and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Whatever," he said. "I'm going to put my hair gel back in. I'll be back in a few minutes to dance with you, Kurt," he added, giving Carson a pointed look. Carson watched him go and then turned back to Kurt.

"Shall we?" he said, smiling and holding his hand out to him. Kurt smiled and took it, placing his other hand on Carson's shoulder.

"I'd be honored," he said, resting his head on Carson's other shoulder as they began swaying to Quinn and Santana's song. Carson swallowed and tried to just enjoy the feel of Kurt's body pressed against his. Right now, in this moment, no matter what happened in the future, he was holding the boy he loved more than anything in the whole world in his arms. The boy he sort of suspected just _might_ return that feeling. Not that he dared to seriously hope for that or anything. Nope.

Not at all. He wasn't _that_ lucky.


	21. Chapter 21

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys! Welcome to the chapter where we begin deviating from canon, sort of. (We can hear you singing the hallelujah chorus from here). Let's just say that from here on in, we won't be _quite_ as strict with following it. So, with that said, let us take a moment to say that we have been immensely enjoying reading your comments and reviews, not only here and Scarves & Coffee, but also on Twitter and Tumblr. We've even gotten to know a few of you through those sites, and we couldn't be more grateful for each and every one of you who read and enjoy this fic. Every nice review you leave or Tumblr post you make truly touches us. We love you! **

**Ok, now let's read!**

The week of Nationals arrived, and to say that Kurt was nervous as hell would have been the understatement of the century. Not about the actual competition, though. They had actually chosen a set list ahead of time this time and rehearsed it, so he figured they were as prepared as they could be. Besides, he knew there wasn't any use anymore in being nervous about the glee club's competitions, since the outcome of those always seemed to be based more on pure luck than on anybody's efforts. No, he was actually nervous because this Nationals trip would involve Blaine and Carson being confined to the same living space for two nights, and Kurt had the uneasy feeling that this wasn't going to turn out well. He had no idea what they were going to do about the sleeping arrangements. Blaine would want to sleep with Kurt, and not only was Kurt _not _sure he was comfortable with that (actually, he was _definitely_ sure he wasn't comfortable with that), but there was no way Carson was going to sit back and allow it. The potential for things to get ugly was very, very high. Not to mention that the sheer tension between Blaine and Carson would probably be thick enough to cut with a knife. In short, Kurt looked forward feverishly to Nationals being over and done with.

The first battleground was the bus ride to Chicago. Kurt had been the first to board the bus and had carefully chosen his window seat (the better to combat motion sickness). He'd then watched with a knotted stomach as his brother and his boyfriend practically knocked each other down in their hurry to take the empty bit of seat beside him. Carson won, giving Blaine a hard elbow in the ribs for good measure, and plopped down next to Kurt. He raised his eyebrows at Blaine, as if to say 'What are you going to do about it, hobbit?"

"I was going to sit there, _Carson_," Blaine said pointedly. Carson shrugged.

"And?" he said dismissively. "I got here first, Brett. There's an empty seat right over there," he added, pointing to the seat across the aisle from theirs.

Blaine crossed his arms. "Well, what if Kurt wants to sit with me?"

"Mmm, and what if he doesn't? Ever think of that?" asked Carson sweetly. Blaine looked over at Kurt, who wished he could just disappear.

"Kurt?" asked Blaine, one eyebrow raised as he waited for Kurt's decision. Kurt sighed and bit his lip uncomfortably.

"Carson was here first, Blaine," he said quietly. Carson gave Blaine a triumphant smile and an exaggerated goodbye wave as Blaine rolled his eyes and sat huffily down in the empty seat. Kurt was torn during the entire ride between thoroughly enjoying Carson's protective arm around him and feeling guilty that Blaine was sitting alone.

Things looked up a little when they arrived in Chicago. Carson was pretty much over the moon to be there, and his excitement was so contagious that Kurt couldn't help but grin.

"Kurtsie, this is going to be my _home_ for four years!" Carson exclaimed excitedly as they got off the bus and dragged their bags through the hotel lobby and up to one of the two rooms Mr. Schue had reserved for them (boys in one room, girls in the other). "This is gonna be heaven! I'll finally be free of that one horse town and be on my way to _be _somebody!" He squealed as he dropped his bag on the ground and wrapped Kurt in a hug, bouncing up and down on the heels of his sneakers. Kurt smiled and ruffled his hair.

"You're already somebody," he reminded him. "You're my big brother, and I love you just the way you are."

"Mmm-hmm, and you'll love me even more when I'm the editor of the _New Yorker._"

"I'll be proud," replied Kurt. "So very proud. But I won't love you more, because it's impossible to love you any more than I do now."

Carson gave him a small smile. "You're the best, Kurtsie."

"I try."

Blaine came into the room then and possessively looped his arm through Kurt's, pulling him away from Carson and steering him away. "Come on, Kurt. We have lots of practicing to do for "Dashboard," and the sooner we all start practicing the better we'll be at the competition."

The club spent the better part of the next five hours in the girls' room practicing their choreography, until everyone was utterly exhausted and decided to call it a night. They were going first the next day at the competition, after all, and would need their sleep. The only problem, Kurt thought, was _where_ everyone would sleep.

Carson ended up deciding the solution to that problem. He was already in his pajamas and in one of the beds when Kurt emerged from the bathroom.

"Come on, Kurtsie," he said, patting the empty space to his side. "Plenty of room for you." Kurt smiled nervously as he climbed into bed beside his twin, wondering if he was going to have to deal with a whining Blaine. As it turned out, he didn't. Blaine didn't say a single word when he came out of the bathroom. He did, however, fix Carson with a hard stare before rolling his eyes and sliding under the sheets on Kurt's other side. Kurt was literally sandwiched in a bed between two men, and while he may have had a fleeting fantasy or two involving that in his wilder moments, he hadn't exactly pictured it quite like this.

"Just so you're aware, hobbit," said Carson fiercely as he wrapped his arms around Kurt in their usual sleeping position, "I'm right here, and I don't like you. So keep in mind that if your hands venture anywhere outside of your own personal bubble of space during the night, I will not hesitate to demonstrate to you exactly what barbed wire on your fun parts feels like. Are we clear?"

Blaine scoffed and lay perfectly straight on his back, folding his hands across his chest. Kurt settled snugly into Carson's arms and sighed, relieved. Maybe the night wouldn't be so disastrous. It would be full of tension, yes, but not disastrous. He was about to close his eyes when he heard Carson snort.

"Wait a minute," Carson said, his voice full of laughter. "Hold on a fucking minute. You wear hair gel to _bed_?" He snorted again and let out a cackle of laughter as Blaine fixed his eyes on the ceiling, looking extremely pissed off.

"Carson," Kurt said exasperatedly. "Come on. Be good."

"I'm sorry," said Carson. "I just...oh my _god, _that shit is hilarious. I'm surprised you even have hair anymore, Bilbo."

"I'm surprised _you_ are able to sleep with such a huge chip on your shoulder," retorted Blaine. "Doesn't it get awfully uncomfortable for you?"

"Not nearly as uncomfortable as that cement gelmet must be for you," said Carson.

"Shut up and go to bed," mumbled Puck sleepily from his pull-out cot across the room.

"Guys, please?" Kurt pleaded. "I know this is difficult, but can't...can't we just go to sleep?"

"Yes, Kurtsie," said Carson, holding him tight and lightly nuzzling into his neck as he placed a soft kiss there. "Good night."

"Goodnight," Kurt said, blushing at the kiss. "And goodnight, Blaine."

"Night," said Blaine, closing his eyes again. Kurt sighed and settled once more into Carson's arms. He wasn't sure he could take much more of Carson and Blaine's sniping at each other. Plus, he wasn't comfortable at all sleeping next to Blaine. He wanted to just sleep with Carson without the added pressure of his boyfriend being right there. As he drifted off to sleep, he hoped that this weekend would go by quickly.

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep when he awoke, but it couldn't have been very long, because the room was still dark and everyone around them was asleep, some of them snoring. Kurt's eyes slowly fluttered open as he tried to figure out what had woken him. He felt Carson's arms around him, gone a little slack from sleep, but still firm and secure. He smiled sleepily and burrowed deeper into the comforting embrace, and that was when he felt it. There was a hand on top of his hand, moving it around, and something warm and hard was underneath it. Quiet little gasps were filling the air. It took Kurt several seconds to put together what was happening, but he was horrified when he figured out that it was Blaine's hand on top of his, and more importantly, it was Blaine's clothed dick under his hand. His very _hard_ dick. That was why he had woken up. Blaine had been using his hand to jerk himself off with.

"_Blaine!_" Kurt hissed, flustered and panicked as he tried to jerk his hand away. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered. "I woke up a little...excited."

"So take care of it in the bathroom, Blaine!" Kurt retorted, trying again to free his hand from Blaine's grip. "I'm not going to jerk you off with Carson right here, and I can't believe you thought I would be ok with this!"

"Kurt, come on, please?" Blaine asked, his hand still covering Kurt's as he pressed it against his erection. "I couldn't resist you, sweetheart, and I'm almost there."

"Blaine, _no_. Let go of my hand _now_!" Kurt hissed, yanking his hand as hard as he could, but Blaine's grip was strong.

"Just give me, like, ten seconds, Kurt. Please?"

"Oh my god, Blaine, _no._" Kurt made to yank his hand away again, but before he could he felt Carson's body leaning over his own. His twin's arm shot out in front of him and grabbed Blaine by the wrist of the hand that was covering Kurt's.

"Let go of him," Carson said in a low, gravelly voice. "Fucking _now._" Blaine let out a small whimper of pain and dropped his grip on Kurt's hand as Carson squeezed his wrist. Even in the dark, Kurt could see Carson's knuckles straining with the effort.

"Kurt, get up and get on the other side of me. Please," Carson said, his grip still tight on Blaine's wrist. Kurt wriggled free of Carson's arms and climbed over his twin's body, settling himself on the other side so that Carson was now in the middle. He really hoped that Carson wasn't about to make too much of a scene.

"Let go of my wrist," Blaine demanded in a loud whisper.

"No," said Carson. "I have some fucking words to say to you."

"_Now_."

"Ok, here's the deal, asshole," Carson growled, using his other hand to roughly cup Blaine's face and turn it to face him. "I'm fucking done with you and your predatory tendencies. I don't know if you're some kind of sex addict or if you just get a kick out of demanding sex from the unwilling, but it's assault and I'm not going to let you do it to my brother anymore. Are we fucking clear?"

"I wasn't assaulting him, and it isn't any of your business," retorted Blaine.

"I disagree, jackass. I think you trying to force Kurt to give you a handjob in a room full of his friends falls under the category of hurting him, and you hurting my baby brother most certainly _is_ my business," replied Carson angrily. "I should kick your sorry ass until you're bleeding."

"Carson, please," whispered Kurt, gripping Carson's shoulders. "Don't...please."

"Don't worry, Kurt, I'm not going to do that," said Carson, his eyes still locked firmly on Blaine. "For right now, I'm just going to do this." He let go of Blaine's face and delivered a swift punch to his groin. Blaine's eyes shot open and he let out a silent scream of pain, his eyes filling with tears.

"Carson!" Kurt whispered fearfully. "Don't hurt him any more. Please. We have to perform in the morning." His twin looked at him and then turned his attention back to Blaine.

"That should solve your problem, fucker," Carson growled, letting go of Blaine's wrist and giving him one final glare. "Don't even look at him for the rest of the night. And tomorrow night you are _not_ sleeping with us." He turned away from Blaine and wrapped his arms back around Kurt, who shakily burrowed into them, trying to mentally process what had just happened. He felt sorry for Blaine, who was laying on his back quietly gasping and whimpering, but he also felt a surge of love for Carson at the moment. It felt good to be protected and defended like that.

"Good night, Kurtsie," Carson whispered, kissing Kurt's ear. "Love you."

"Love you," Kurt returned. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still feeling slightly guilty over Blaine's gasps of pain. The next time he opened his eyes, it was morning and Carson was shaking him gently awake.

"Kurtsie," Carson said softly, one hand on his shoulder. "Kurtsie, wake up, honey. We have to be at the theater in a little over an hour."

"Mmmph," Kurt mumbled, burying his face into his pillow. "Gimme five minutes."

"_WHERE IS IT_?" a voice suddenly yelled. Kurt's eyes flew open just in time to see Blaine stalking over to Carson, his face full of anger as the other boys in the room looked on with interest. "What did you do with it?"

"Do with what?" Carson asked innocently. Blaine gestured to his own head, making Kurt notice for the first time that his hair was in its naturally curly state.

"My hair gel, you jerk," he practically spat. "It's gone, it's the _only_ thing missing from my suitcase, and I know you had something to do with that, so _where is it_?"

"How do you know I did anything with it?" asked Carson, crossing his arms and glaring at him. "Besides, don't you usually use your own ejaculate to glue your hair in place?"

"Give me my gel!" Blaine whined. "I know you took it!"

"Blaine, please calm down," Kurt said, sitting up in bed and pinching the bridge of his nose to try to stave off the headache he could feel approaching. "Carson, did you take his gel?"

"Don't tell me to calm down! I want my gel!" Blaine yelled.

"Don't yell at him," Carson said dangerously, stepping in front of Kurt protectively. "I don't have your fucking gel."

"But I bet you fucking know where it is," Blaine retorted.

"Dude, you just swore," said Finn in awe. "Neat!"

"Shut up, Finn!" Blaine screeched, stomping his foot angrily. "I want my hair gel and I want it now!" A knock at the door threw everyone into silence. Puck answered it to reveal Rachel on the other side, already in her performance costume and holding a small container in her hand.

"Blaine, I believe this is yours," she said, marching over to him and handing him the container. "I found it in Santana's makeup case when I went to borrow her eye shadow." She crossed over to talk to Finn as Blaine looked down at the container of gel and then back at Carson.

"Hey, I told you _I_ didn't have it," said Carson smugly. Blaine looked like he wanted to start yelling again. Kurt wasn't sure whether to laugh or scold Carson.

"Carson," he began, unable to stop himself from letting out a small giggle. "Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah, wow, Carson acts like an ass and Kurt thinks it's funny," said Blaine sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "_What_ a shock. Really. I'm so very surprised."

"Blaine, come on," Kurt said, giving him a small, pleading smile. "It was just a prank, and you have your gel back now. Can't we all just try to get along today? It's our last competition together."

"You know what, Kurt? Have fun defending your precious big brother Carsey. I'm going to do my hair," Blaine replied angrily, stalking off to the bathroom. Kurt sighed and looked up at Carson.

"Can you at least promise me no more practical jokes for the rest of the weekend?" he asked pleadingly.

"That depends entirely on whether or not _he_ can promise _me_ that he'll keep his hobbit hands to himself for the rest of the weekend," Carson replied. "Or better yet, for the rest of his natural life."

"Please?" Kurt begged. "I don't want to deal with him being angry the whole time." He unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder, where he knew there was a small bruise from the day before where Blaine had irritably squeezed him after Kurt had gotten a dance move wrong during their "Dashboard" practice. Thankfully, Carson hadn't seen it, and Kurt hoped he wouldn't.

"Fine. Ok," agreed Carson reluctantly. "I promise. No more pranks."

"Thank you," said Kurt with a smile as he got out of bed and hugged him. "Now come, before I get ready I want to do something with that hair of yours."

"But I should probably mention that I put about three teaspoons of Elmer's glue in that gel before I gave it to Santana," said Carson. "You know...just to clear the air."

Kurt felt that headache suddenly becoming much more real. It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

The rest of Nationals weekend passed by in a blur. Carson was happy, he guessed, that New Directions placed first and were the new reigning champions, but that was almost completely overshadowed by how pissed off he was at Blaine. He still could not believe that the other boy was such a sexual deviant as to pull what he'd pulled in that hotel bed, and he was so lucky that a quick punch in the dick and a hidden container of hair gel was all Carson had done to him. Had it not been a room full of witnesses on a school sponsored trip, Carson would happily have murdered him. It was a small victory for him to watch Blaine struggle to remove his glue-laced hair gel the next night, but not much. The icy cold glare Blaine shot his way when he finally (with the help of lots of water) removed all of it legitimately made Carson fearful for Kurt, and he was glad he'd arranged for Rory to take Blaine's spot in the bed for the second night. He absolutely couldn't understand why Kurt put up with Blaine, and he wanted so badly to know the answer. The one comforting thought he always turned to was that soon Kurt would get his NYADA acceptance letter and by the fall would be in New York, far away from Blaine.

If Carson was lucky, maybe he could even get his brother away from Blaine for the summer, as well. A friend Burt had made during his Congressional travels just so happened to be subletting an apartment in Chicago for a year, and as a graduation gift, Burt had informed Carson that the apartment was his, if he wanted it, so long as he moved in by the beginning of June.

"This way you won't have to live in the dorms," his father had said when he told him. "I know you don't, uh...well...that you're not really a people person and won't take well to sharing a room with someone besides Kurt. Plus, you'll have a whole summer to get to know the city before your classes start." Carson had been speechless, not knowing quite how to thank his dad and settling on a fierce hug. The only downside was that this would mean leaving Kurt much sooner than he wanted, which was why he was planning on asking Kurt to come with him and stay for the summer. He hadn't asked him yet, but he really hoped his twin would agree when he did. The thought of leaving him alone for the summer with Blaine made Carson want to throw up, and he wasn't sure he could really move so soon if Kurt didn't come along.

Now it was their last week of school, and Carson was feeling just slightly sentimental as he sat in the journalism classroom one afternoon, going through a stack of _Muckrakers_ he had published over the years. The heart and soul of his high school existence, basically.

_I'll miss you, buddy_, he thought as he stared down at the stack and neatly arranged the papers so that their edges aligned. _You sucked, but you're my legacy_.

"Hey, Pulitzer," said a familiar voice. Carson looked up to see Santana leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed as she looked around the classroom. "Reflecting on all the years you wasted in this room?"

"Something like that," Carson answered. "What about you? Reflecting on all the years you wasted being a heartless ice queen?"

"No, not really," said Santana with a shrug as she walked inside and sat down at a desk. "I was a bitch, and I own that. No regrets."

"Um...thank you, by the way," said Carson in a rush. "For helping me hide the hobbit's hair shit in Chicago."

"No problem," said Santana. "He _would _have had to go on stage with his fro, if Trollberry hadn't found the damn stuff and returned it to him."

"Well, you tried, and anyway, I put glue in it, so...hey, you called her Trollberry!" said Carson with a smile. "I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, well, you're a bad influence," replied Santana. "So, have you asked Kurt to move with you for the summer yet?"

"Not yet," answered Carson quietly, fiddling absentmindedly with the papers in front of him. "I'm just...I'm afraid he'll say no."

"Trust me, he won't," said Santana confidently. "Boy has it _bad_ for you."

"Sometimes, I almost think you're right," said Carson with a sigh. "But then I see him with Binton, and I just...I don't know. I guess I feel stupid for hoping. You know?"

"It's not stupid," said Santana. "Carson, I'm telling you. He has feelings for you. I wish you would listen to me."

"Like I don't _want_ to? I'm just...I can't let myself get my hopes up. The disappointment _if_ you're wrong would kill me," replied Carson. Santana gave him a long look and shrugged.

"Ok. Your life. Anyway, I'm here because I'm throwing a little graduation shindig at my house this weekend, and you're invited, of course," she said.

Carson looked at her warily. "You're not going to get me and Kurt drunk and have us make out again, are you?"

Santana raised her eyebrows. "I _could_, but I don't think I will. I've done all I can do to help you. Ball's in your court now, sweets. So, you coming or not?"

Carson sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll go."

"Great." Santana stood up and looked at him before crossing over to him and giving him an awkward hug. "I'm...I'm gonna miss you, Diane Sawyer," she said. "You were a breath of fresh air in this godforsaken place."

"Thanks, Santana," said Carson, gingerly hugging her back. "You too."

She broke from the hug and patted him on the shoulder before turning around and walking out of the classroom. Carson watched her go, shaking his head slightly. _When did I turn into a hugger? I mean, hugging people other than Kurt, or Dad. Who am I_?

His text message ringtone interrupted his thoughts and he picked up his phone to see a message from Kurt lighting up the screen.

_**Carsey, can you meet me in the choir room? It's really important, and I need you. -Kurtsie**_

Carson picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, dashing off a quick reply to Kurt as he exited the classroom. He wondered what was up. Maybe Kurt was practicing a song or something and wanted Carson's opinion.

"Hey. You." Carson stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around to find Coach Sylvester walking toward him.

"Yeah?" he asked, confused.

"You're Porcelain's brother," she said. Carson rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," he said irritably.

"Well, I don't want to keep you from hurrying off to what I'm sure is a fascinating afternoon of writing an expose on cafeteria mystery meat, but I've got something to say to you real quick," she said. He looked at her curiously.

"Yeah?" he said. Apparently that was becoming his new favorite word.

"I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I kept getting distracted by my unadulterated hatred for Will Schuester," she said. "I know all about your little blackmail scheme to get submissions for your lame magazine."

Carson paled. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How did she find out? I can't get in trouble for this now. Not when I'm so close to Northwestern._

He was formulating a protesting reply when she held up a hand to silence him and continued. "I know about it, and I gotta hand it to you, Porcelain Two. That's just underhanded enough to remind me of a young Sue Sylvester. If a young Sue Sylvester looked like a Keebler elf with an affinity for people clothes."

Carson didn't know what the hell to say. He just gaped for a minute before finally shaking his head. "Um...uh...thanks?"

"No problem," she replied. "Good luck at whatever internet scam college you're planning to attend."

"I'm going to Northwestern," he rebutted, but she was already gone down the hallway. _Well, that was fucking weird. _He shrugged and continued on his way to the choir room, finding Kurt standing in it, along with Finn and Rachel. All three looked nervous, but none more so than Kurt.

"Carson, thank god!" he exclaimed as Carson entered the room. He pointed to a stool in the middle of the room, on which sat three envelopes. "We're going to open our letters and I didn't want to open mine without you here."

"Wait, you got your letter?" asked Carson. "When?"

"Yesterday," replied Kurt. "I just didn't tell you right away. I was scared of what might be in it."

"Oh, Kurtsie," Carson said, crossing over to him and putting an arm around him. "I'm sure you got in." Kurt looked sick as he squeezed Carson's hand and exchanged nervous looks with Finn and Rachel.

"I'm seriously having trouble breathing right now," he said.

"Are you guys ready?" asked Rachel.

"I kind of want to wait," said Finn quietly.

"For how long?" asked Kurt.

"Forever," replied Finn. "I'm...just a couple more seconds. But this is the last moment before we know. After we open these envelopes, it's...it's gonna change our entire lives, no matter what's in it. Either way. I kind of want another minute with you guys here like this."

Kurt swallowed, and Carson felt the grip on his hand getting tighter. "So, who's first?"

"I'll go first," said Finn. "I've got a good feeling about it."

"Look," said Rachel as Finn picked up his envelope. "No matter what happens, we're all here for each other." She crossed over to Kurt's other side and took his arm, and Carson didn't even think to roll his eyes or order her away. He was too anxious about what was inside Kurt's envelope. They watched as Finn opened his and read the letter inside, his face falling as he did so.

"I didn't get in," he said. Carson couldn't really say he was surprised about that. Finn had applied to the Actor's Studio, for fuck's sake. What was he really expecting?"

"It's ok," said Rachel, leaving Kurt to go comfort Finn. "Please, somebody else just open theirs," said Finn dejectedly. Kurt sighed shakily.

"I'll go next," he said, picking his envelope up off the stool. Carson felt his own stomach knotting in anticipation as Kurt ripped it open.

"I'm here for you, Kurtsie," he said, placing his hands around Kurt's shoulders and squeezing affectionately. "No matter what it says, I'm here. I love you." Kurt smiled and nodded, removing the letter from the envelope and unfolding it carefully. Carson bit his lip and waited for the verdict.

"I didn't get in," said Kurt, sounding like he couldn't quite believe it. "I didn't get in."

"_What_?" asked Carson in absolute disbelief. "Wait...wait, no, that...there has to be some kind of mistake. You _had_ to have gotten in. You nailed your audition, and...and..." He trailed off as Kurt sagged against him, clutching his rejection letter in his hand. Carson held him as Kurt's arms wrapped around his waist. He could tell his twin was trying not to cry.

"Your turn, Rachel," said Kurt. Rachel took her envelope and faced away from them as she opened it. Carson held Kurt and tried to keep his anger in check. It wouldn't do Kurt any good, and Kurt needed him right now.

_I can't believe he didn't get in. What the fuck kind of school is that if they reject him after that flawless audition?_

Rachel turned around then, an odd look on her face as she held her letter in her hands.

"I got in," she said.

Carson felt all his repressed anger shooting out of him all at once. "What the hell do you mean, _you_ got in? How is that possible? You blew your audition and Kurt didn't. This isn't fair. The letters must have gotten switched somehow. You should have gotten rejected. You..." He felt one of Kurt's hands encircle his own and his twin's lips against his ear.

"Carson...Carsey, don't," he said. "Please don't."

So Carson didn't. He just stood there holding Kurt as Kurt congratulated Rachel flatly. He held him as Rachel expressed her regrets that Kurt didn't get in as well. He held him as both Rachel and Finn patted Kurt comfortingly on the shoulder and left the choir room, leaving the twins alone. That was when Kurt let go. He started sobbing uncontrollably, his face buried in Carson's shoulder as he soaked his hoodie through with tears. And Carson couldn't do anything to make it better for him. He was powerless to do anything except hold him tight, stroking his back comfortingly and whispering reassurances into his ear. He hated not being able to help Kurt. It was the worst feeling in the world. He was Kurt's big brother, damn it. He was supposed to be able to make everything alright.

"Shhh, it's ok, Kurtsie," he whispered soothingly as Kurt's sobs tapered off into sniffles. "Well, I mean, it's not _ok_, obviously. Actually it's complete bullshit."

"I don't understand, Carsey," Kurt sniffed. "I thought...I mean, I knew my audition probably wasn't the best they'd ever seen, but after Carmen gave me a good review, I thought that maybe...maybe I would make it. I let myself believe."

"I know, baby. It's bullshit," Carson repeated, stroking Kurt's hair with one hand. He didn't know what came over him in that moment. Maybe it was the feeling that it was him and Kurt against the world and always had been, or maybe it was the thought of leaving Kurt alone in Lima not only for the summer, but for a whole school semester now, as well. The very idea made him sick to his stomach, especially when he remembered that Blaine would be there, free to sink his claws into Kurt any time he pleased with Carson not around to keep him in check.

Whatever it was, it made him take a deep breath and hug Kurt slightly tighter before he carefully said the words he'd been wanting to say ever since he found out about the sublet apartment.

"Kurt...Kurtsie," he said, as Kurt hiccupped into his shoulder. "I know you're disappointed. I am, too. And I'm angry. This sucks, and it isn't fair. If anyone should be going to that school, it's you. But...but maybe it's...sort of ok. Maybe you...maybe you could come and live with me in Chicago until you can reapply. I mean...I'll have a whole apartment to myself, and I'd love to have you with me. You could practice living in a big city before you go to New York. And I know you had your heart set on NYADA, but maybe you could apply to other schools, too. I mean, New York is a big place, with a lot of schools that have musical theater programs. I can help you research them. NYADA isn't the only one. And it's clearly run by idiots, anyway, if they accepted Rachel and her constipation faces over you. Your audition was fucking _flawless_."

Kurt stopped sniffling and removed his face from Carson's shoulder, wiping his eyes delicately with a handkerchief he retrieved from his pocket. "That sounds wonderful, Carson," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" said Carson hopefully.

"Yeah," replied Kurt. "But...oh, Carsey, I can't. I can't go with you."

Carson's heart felt like it had sunk down into his stomach. "Why not?"

Kurt took a deep breath and looked into Carson's eyes with his tear-filled ones. "Carsey, if I go with you, I'll just be holding you back. You can't fully enjoy your experience if you're constantly worrying about me and how I'm adjusting. I'll stay here and go to New York in the spring, if NYADA will take me."

Carson shook his head. "Oh, Kurtsie, no. Why would you even think that? You wouldn't be holding me back at all, honey. If anything, having you around would make it better."

Kurt shook his head. "Carson, I...I just...I don't think that it's a good idea," he said, sounding as sad as Carson had ever heard him sound. He looked uncomfortably down at his feet and bunched his handkerchief in his hands. "For us to...I...I just...I would love it, I really would, you have no idea, but...I just...I can't. I'm really sorry."

Carson was surprised his heart hadn't fallen out by now as he listened to Kurt struggling to form words. The answer was as clear as day, even if Kurt wouldn't come right out and say it. He didn't want to come with Carson to Chicago because he was going to take the opportunity to spend more time with Blaine instead. Suddenly, everything hurt. Badly.

"I...I understand, Kurtsie," he said, willing himself not to throw up on the choir room floor. "I do. You have to do what...what feels right for you. I get it." He forced himself to give Kurt a small smile and hoped that it looked genuine, even though he could feel a crack forming down the center of his heart. "I just...I'm going to really miss you. That...that's all. I hate the thought of leaving you here all alone."

Kurt threw his arms back around him and hugged him tight. "I'll miss you, too. Being apart from you is going to suck, but we...we'll talk every day. We will. And Skype. And text and Facebook chat and everything. You won't ever be completely rid of me."

"I wouldn't ever want to be," said Carson, grateful that Kurt couldn't see the few tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. "I want you to feel free to call or text or whatever any time you want. Any time. I don't care how late or early it is. And...if you ever want me to go and cut some bitches at NYADA, just say the word, and I'll do it."

He heard Kurt snort and suck in a breath. "You'll be the first one I call. Always."

* * *

Graduation came and went, and at long last, Carson was finally free of William McKinley High School. Other than his brief sentimentality over the _Muckraker_, he could honestly say he was happy and relieved to not be stuck in that prison of a school anymore. He had paid his dues, and now it was all behind him. His future was ahead, and it was so very bright. Of course, his happiness over his own future was dampened by the fact that he knew Kurt wasn't getting his. Not for awhile, anyway. Carson couldn't understand what the fuck was wrong with NYADA, or how the hell Rachel had gotten accepted when she had completely fucked up her audition. It wasn't fair, and it pissed Carson off. Why couldn't anything ever go right for Kurt? Why was he always being dealt these shitty hands in life? For fuck's sake, he lost the lead in _West Side Story_, he lost the race for student body president, and now he had lost his chance to live his dream. Carson couldn't help but feel guilty about that. He would gladly have traded places with Kurt if possible.

In fact, he was seriously considering not moving into that apartment at the beginning of the month. He wasn't sure he wanted to go if it meant leaving Kurt stuck in Lima with Blaine for an extra three months more than necessary. Especially since Carson was _still_ trying to determine if Santana had been right all along. There was too much evidence for him to outright ignore anymore. Blaine hadn't been around in the days since graduation, and Kurt had been spending much more time with Carson. And, to put it mildly, there had been...well...tension. First of all, Carson had caught Kurt staring at him as he emerged shirtless from the shower several times. The first time he thought maybe he had been imagining things, but the second time he was quite sure he wasn't. Kurt was pretty blatantly staring, and had blushed and quickly looked away when he realized he'd been caught.

Secondly, they had almost had a repeat of the hallway incident one night as they maneuvered around the kitchen, each trying to make separate things (tea for Kurt, a sandwich for Carson). The small space they had to work with caused Kurt to trip and land right up against Carson, who caught him before he could fall. They had stood there for a minute, just staring at one another, and then Carson could have sworn that Kurt's face was inching ever so much closer to his, his lips parted as though he were going to kiss him. Carson was almost convinced it would have happened, if not for Sam walking in right that second, causing Kurt to scurry away and check on his tea.

But the thing that really got Carson thinking was found under their bed one night as Carson was attempting to retrieve a pencil he had dropped while writing in his journal. He found it under Kurt's side of the bed, where it had rolled next to Kurt's senior year scrapbook he'd been keeping since September. Carson smiled and glanced toward the closed bathroom door, where Kurt was taking a shower. He wasn't sure if he should be looking through the scrapbook, but he was really curious, and it was so adorable, with its jaunty cover that Kurt had decorated himself with cut-out paper shapes and glitter.

_He won't mind if I just sneak a peek,_ Carson thought. _Just a peek, and then I'll put it back._ He began flipping through the pages, smiling as he saw the various themed pages that Kurt had filled with photographs of himself, Carson, and members of the glee club. There were photos from various performances in the choir room, photos from _West Side Story_, even a cute picture of Kurt covered in pasta from the food fight on the first week of school. Carson smiled and flipped one more page. He gasped out loud as he found an entire page filled with photos of him. There were pictures of him in his pencil costume, a photo of him at the assembly to announce the literary magazine, even a picture of him just sitting at his desk in the journalism classroom, gazing thoughtfully at his laptop. But the fact that there was en entire page dedicated to him wasn't what made him gasp. No, the cause of that was the very prominent card carefully glued onto the middle of the page. Carson recognized it instantly, because he had made it. It was the card that he had slipped into Kurt's locker for Valentine's Day. And there it was, sitting in the middle of a page that was full of nothing but photos of Carson, with a little red heart drawn next to it in marker.

_That can't mean he knows, can it?_ Carson thought, his heart practically in his throat as he gently grazed his fingers over the card. _I mean, I don't know...he could have just stuck it there for any reason. Doesn't mean he thought it had anything to do with me, right? …...Right? _He wished he could stop the nagging feeling in his gut that no, it wasn't a coincidence that the card was put there.

He heard the water close off in the bathroom and hurriedly slipped the scrapbook back under the bed, briefly wondering as he climbed back under the sheets why there didn't seem to be very many photos of Blaine, and then deciding that he'd probably just missed them.

_Maybe he has feelings for you, and maybe he doesn't_, Carson thought to himself. _But even if he does, he clearly has stronger ones for Bubby. He's dating him, not you. He's chosen him. I don't know WHY, I honestly don't. What can you really do? Nothing. You can do nothing but wait. And die slowly._

* * *

The next night was Santana's party, and Carson very nearly decided to skip it when he found out that Blaine was going. For some reason he hadn't expected him to go, because it was a graduation party and he'd figured it would only be for the graduating members of the glee club. He should have known the whole club would go, even the underclassmen. Not that he really minded everybody going, but he _did_ mind Blaine going. The only reason Carson ended up not staying home was because he decided he'd rather die than let Kurt go without him and be around a drunk Blaine all night long.

Which was how he found himself sitting sulkily on Santana's living room couch, working on his fourth drink (or fifth, he really couldn't remember anymore) and watching Kurt and Blaine talking to Quinn across the room. He'd thought drinking would numb the pain of seeing them together. It hadn't. Blaine's arm was slung casually over Kurt's shoulder, and Carson was busy picturing now nice it would be to cut that arm off with a chainsaw when the doorbell rang.

"The hell is that?" Santana, stumbling toward the door and yanking it open. "What the...what the hell are you doing here, Preppy?" she asked. Carson looked up and groaned. Sebastian was standing in the doorway, wearing regular clothes and a smug smile on his face as he raised one eyebrow at Santana.

"Well actually, I was ambushed by Blaine online a few nights ago," he answered. "He wouldn't shut up about this party. Pretty much strongly suggested I should come. Doesn't seem like much of a party though," he added, looking around as though searching for something. His eyes lit up and his grin got ever so slightly bigger as his eyes landed on Carson. "Never mind. It's a party."

"The second you try to blind anyone, your ass is out," muttered Santana, closing the door behind him as he stepped inside.

"Don't be silly," said Sebastian brightly. "Like I've said before, I'm a changed man."

"Sebastiaaaan," slurred Blaine, leaving Kurt to walk over to him. "You...you came!" He grinned and patted Sebastian on the shoulder clumsily.

"You invited Sebastian?" asked Kurt, coming up behind him and looking incredibly put-out.

"Yeah...um...well...no...it sort of came up last time we chatted," said Blaine.

"You still chat to him?" asked Kurt shortly, his face taking on a look of irritation. "I didn't know you still kept in touch."

"We don't," said Sebastian quickly. "Not regularly. I was just online the other night minding my own business, when Blainers here started IMing me out of the blue, going on and on about this party, and how Santana's parties usually end up in drunken dares, and that I should totally come."

"Really?" said Kurt, a tight smile forming on his face. "How nice."

_See, Kurt? You see? Bisquick is an asshole, baby. He invited Sebastian because he thought there'd be kissing games going on. _

_"_Don't worry, Kurt, I'm not after your man," said Sebastian. "Not anymore. Actually, I came because I was kind of hoping Hot Hummel would be here," he added, his grin growing wider still as he turned to Carson. "And speak of the handsome devil, there he is." Kurt looked stricken. Blaine looked disappointed.

"Fuck off," Carson muttered, stumbling off the couch and waving his cup lazily in the air. "I'm only...only here for the drinks, and to _supervise_ because Bin...Boney...Bingo...whatever...Booger tends to get wandering fuckin' hands when he's drunk," he said, glaring at Blaine. "And I've told you before, Meerkat, I'm not interested."

"He's not interested," Kurt echoed smugly to Sebastian, who shrugged.

"Whatever. I'm endlessly patient," he said. "He'll come around. Won't you, Carson?"

Kurt opened his mouth, probably about to say something snarky back to Sebastian, but was pulled away by Blaine, who rolled his eyes and practically stomped off. Carson glared after them and knocked back the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"Thirsty, are we?" asked Sebastian in an amused tone. Carson shot him the best bitch face he could muster under the circumstances and scoffed.

"None of your business," he muttered, stalking off in the direction of the liquor. He needed more alcohol if he was going to handle this crazy-ass night. He poured the contents of the nearest bottle into his cup, not particularly giving a shit what it was, and looked sadly across the room, where Blaine had dragged Kurt to go talk to Mercedes. Blaine's hand was on Kurt's back, and just the very sight of him touching Kurt was sending Carson into a simmering rage.

_It's not fair. It's not fucking fair that he's a complete asshole and can put his filthy hands on him whenever the hell he wants when it's obvious that he doesn't even really care for Kurt all that much. Meanwhile, I love Kurt so much it's actually painful, and I'm NEVER going to get the chance to be with him like that. NEVER. Why? Why is that? What does the hobbit have that I don't? Why does Kurt want to be with him so badly that he's willing to overlook all the shitty things Benny does? He can't love Kurt like I love him. It's not possible. Nobody can._

And then Blaine's hand traveled lower, resting just above the swell of Kurt's ass, and Blaine turned his head. For the briefest of seconds, he looked straight at Carson and gave him a smug smile and a wink before turning back to Mercedes. As if to say "_I have what you want and can't have, so deal with it_."

Carson felt something break inside of him. He was so hurt and so angry, and he had no idea what to do with his feelings anymore. He honestly didn't know how Kurt felt about him, and maybe he never would, but if Kurt felt even half as much toward Carson as Carson felt for him, then part of Carson wanted Kurt to know how it felt to be him, even for just a minute.

So when he heard Sebastian come up behind him and start throwing out one of his stupid fucking pickup lines, Carson snapped. He turned to face the other boy and looked him right in the eye.

"Fine," he said. Sebastian blinked, clearly unprepared for that reply.

"What?" he asked.

"I said...I said fine. You really think you...you want me that bad? Then do it. Kiss me and get it over with," said Carson before he could lose his alcohol-infused nerve.

Sebastian just gaped at him. "..._Really_?"

Carson rolled his eyes. "Yes, for fuck's sake. Christ, you've been on my ass because you _wanted_ my ass for months, so don't chicken shit out on me now. Kiss me."

Sebastian blinked and shook his head slightly. "For real. You're sure?"

"_Yes_," said Carson irritably. "Right here. Kiss me." He closed his eyes and waited for it, wanting to just get it over with and hoping that Kurt would see. He waited for what felt like an hour, and then he finally felt lips touching his own. It felt absolutely nothing like kissing Kurt. Kissing Kurt was magical and wonderful and made him feel butterflies and see fireworks. Kissing Sebastian was like...well, it was like mashing lips together. That was it. It didn't feel special. It didn't even feel particularly good. And all Carson was able to think about was Kurt. It felt _wrong_.

"Mmmph...'k, that's enough," he mumbled, pulling away and touching his finger to his own lips thoughtfully.

"Your lips taste like 'I told you so.' And vodka," said Sebastian.

"Fuck you."

"Ok, just what the _hell_ is going on here?" said a voice. Carson turned to see Kurt stalking over to them, his face full of rage. "What the hell are you doing with your lips all over my brother, Craigslist?" Carson saw Blaine and Mercedes turn to watch the scene unfold before them, both of them looking shocked and Blaine looking pissed off on top of it.

"Calm down, Kurt," said Sebastian cooly. "I told you he would come around. He came around."

"Oh really?" said Kurt, his arms crossed fiercely across his chest as he stared Sebastian down. "He's also drunk as hell and can't really make informed decisions right now, or else he sure as fuck wouldn't have ever given you the time of day, so back. The hell. _Off_."

"You...you know what, Kurt?" asked Carson, turning to Kurt and looking him in the eye. "Why do you even...even care...why? What does it really matter to you? It's not like I'm dating anyone. I'm free to do whatever I want with _whoever_ I want. If you can let Hobbit Dick put his hands and god knows what else on you at any time and nobody can say anything, then why am I not allowed? Hmm? Is there any particular _reason_ why I shouldn't kiss someone else?"

Kurt looked down at the floor and bit his lip. Carson scoffed.

"Right. That's all the answer I need, then," he said, grabbing his cup and stalking off, hitting against Sebastian with his shoulder on his way.

"Carson," Kurt called after him. Carson ignored him.

"Kurt, forget him. Let him go. Come on," he heard Blaine say. "Dance with me."

"But-"

"_Kurt_. Come _on_."

Carson stumbled his way into the nearest bathroom and set his cup on the sink, running the water to splash some on his face. He hated absolutely everything right now, especially himself for snapping at Kurt and for actually kissing Sebastian. _Ugh, what is WRONG_ _with me? _He really wished he could crawl in a hole and disappear, at least until the alcohol had worn off. Since he could not, he decided he'd at least try to apologize to Kurt.

_My fucking life_, he thought as he exited the bathroom, forgetting all about his cup. He searched around for Kurt and spotted him and Blaine still with Mercedes, Blaine's arm gripping him tightly around the waist, as if trying to keep him in place. _Asshole_. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. _Good._

"Ok, what the hell just happened?" asked Santana, marching toward him before he could make a move toward Kurt. "I leave the room for five minutes and you're kissing Slushie Salt? What the _fuck_?"

"Leave me alone, Santana," Carson groaned, trying to walk past her. She stopped him with a hand to the shoulder and glared at him.

"I most certainly will _not_. Why would you do that?" she asked in a hissed whisper. "Are you trying to fuck up any chance you'll ever have with Kurt? Because my psychic Mexican third eye is never wrong, and it can fucking _sense_ that him and Bowties aren't going to last much longer. For Christ's sake, look at them. Kurt is ready to run for the damn hills any second."

"Really, Santana? Because they actually look pretty cozy to me," replied Carson bitterly. "Why do you care? It's not your life, ok?"

"I care because I'm your _friend_, and as your _friend_, I have a piece of business to discuss with you," she answered.

"I don't want to talk right now," Carson protested, trying again to push past her unsuccessfully.

"I think you will, because it concerns Kurt and what a dick Bowties is," she said. "Britts and I were talking to Artie, and-"

"God, Santana, I don't care," groaned Carson.

"Oh? You don't _care_ that Wheels' idea of being a good director for _West Side Story_ was to tell Trollberry and Blowties that they couldn't play characters who were experiencing a sexual awakening without first...you know...experiencing one?" she asked pointedly.

Carson blinked at her. "...What?"

"Now that I think about it, that was around the time that Berry called all us girls for a special meeting about losing her virginity," Santana mused. "It was gross, and I almost threw up. And I just bet you that she wasn't the only one who sacrificed her V card to the altar of _West Side Story_."

Carson felt anger boiling in his veins as Santana's words sunk in. He remembered the timeline of the play, too. Specifically, he remembered it being around the same time as Kurt coming home from a gay bar with a gigantic bruise on his arm and acting traumatized. And not too long before Carson walked in on something he hoped to never see again.

Carson was done. He was _so fucking done_.

He stalked right over to where Kurt and Blaine were talking to Mercedes and glared at Blaine for a long minute before rearing back and punching Blaine as hard as he could, right in the face. He punched him so hard it caused blinding pain in his knuckles, but it was worth it as he watched Blaine stumble and fall, one hand clutching his face as he yelled in pain. Mercedes gasped and Kurt screamed. Almost everyone else in the room stared.

"He was just a convenient body to you, wasn't he, asshole?" Carson yelled at the incapacitated Blaine. "_Wasn't he?_"

"Carson!" Kurt exclaimed, rushing over to Blaine and helping him up. "Carson, what has gotten into you tonight?"

Carson laughed bitterly. "What's gotten into me? _What's gotten into me_? Did you know, Kurt? Hmm? Did you know that the only reason your precious hobbit ever wanted to sleep with you...in _our_ bed, by the way...was because he thought it would make him a better actor? In a role that he stole from you? Or, what, did that never come up while he was pretending to be the perfect fucking dapper gentleman?"

Kurt looked taken aback and glanced briefly to Blaine before looking back at Carson and shaking his head. "Carson, what.."

"I'll take that as a no," said Carson. "Tell him, asshole," he ordered, practically spitting at Blaine as more guests stopped what they were doing and watched the scene before them uncomfortably. "Tell him. TELL HIM!" He raised his hand to punch Blaine a second time and was stopped by a hand quickly clamped over his wrist.

"Dude," said Sam, pulling Carson away from Blaine. "Chill out, ok? Why don't you go get yourself together?"

Carson surveyed the scene in front of him. Blaine stumbling, one hand over his eye, which was rapidly swelling and turning purple. Kurt with his arms around his shoulders, assisting him, looking completely exhausted and worn out. Everybody looking and whispering. Santana looking at Carson in sympathy. Everybody else looking at _Blaine_ in sympathy.

"You know what? I'm done," said Carson. "I'm done trying. I'm done. You won, Billy. You fucking won." He stalked out of the living room and down the hallway, just wanting to be alone, and passed Sebastian coming out of the bathroom on the way. And suddenly he had a different idea. If Kurt could throw his virginity away for an asshole who didn't love him, then why the fuck shouldn't Carson do the same thing? He didn't know if it was just the alcohol flowing through his blood making him feel that way, and he didn't care. He just wanted not to feel anything anymore. And more importantly, he wanted to rising nausea in his stomach to go away.

"You," he said, turning and grabbing Sebastian by the back of the shirt. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" asked Sebastian, as Carson ducked into the bathroom for a second to grab his abandoned drink cup.

"I'm giving you what you want," Carson muttered, moving his grip to Sebastian's wrist and dragging him up the stairs to the second floor of the Lopez' house. He opened doors at random until he found a room with a bed in it. He had no idea whose bedroom it was, nor did he really give a fuck. He shoved Sebastian inside and shut the door behind them.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?" asked Sebastian as Carson pushed him onto the bed. "First you want me to kiss you and now you want to screw? What's the catch here? There's no chase anymore. It's boring."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever. If you're going to turn me down, I'll just find somebody else."

"Well, let's not go that far," said Sebastian. "You sure you want to do this?"

Carson hesitated. "Yes," he lied. "Positive." He looked down at the floor, hoping Sebastian wouldn't be able to tell just how unsure he really was.

Sebastian stood up and shrugged. "Ok, cool. Let's do this thing, then." He crossed over to Carson and cupped his face in one hand, moving in to kiss him. Carson ducked his head and Sebastian wound up with a mouthful of hair.

"Yeah, no, there's got to be a few ground rules here," said Carson, reaching his hands out to Sebastian's shirt and beginning to clumsily unbutton it. "Like, no kissing on the lips. And preferably no eye contact." He didn't think he could actually go through with this if he actually had to look at Sebastian, and he couldn't kiss him again. He just couldn't. Kissing meant there were feelings, and this was...well, the whole point of this was to _not_ feel feelings anymore, right?

"Ok, no foreplay. You want to get right to the main event. I got it," replied Sebastian as Carson slipped his shirt off of him. "May I?" he asked, reaching for the hem of Carson's T-shirt. Carson screwed his eyes shut and tried to summon up his nerve.

"Wait," he said, reaching for the cup full of liquor he had set down on the dresser inside the room. He downed the rest of the contents in two large gulps and then nodded. "Ok. Now," he said, waiting for the sweet numbness of alcohol's embrace to overtake him.

Sebastian hooked his fingers into the hem of Carson's shirt and pulled up. Carson gasped as the cool air of the room hit his skin and calloused fingers began trailing down his chest and torso.

"Damn, so _this_ is what's been hiding under those hoodies all this time?" said Sebastian with a whistle. "No wonder Kurt's so possessive."

"Shut the fuck up," Carson ordered, irritated by the mention of Kurt. "Stop talking and just fuck me already. I want to get this over with."

"Yeah, no, that's totally romantic and shit," said Sebastian sarcastically. "_What_ A Casanova."

"I said shut uuup," Carson whined.

"Fine," said Sebastian. "How do you want to do this?"

Carson looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I mean, I get the feeling this is your first time at the rodeo, so to speak, so how are we doing this? Am I topping or are you? I'm versatile. I'm good with either."

Carson bit his lip. "I want to top," he said. "I don't trust you to not seriously injure me."

Sebastian snorted. "And I should trust _you_? You've never done this before, hon."

Carson sighed and flopped down on his back on the bed. "God, _whatever_. I really don't give a fuck who tops, ok? Just please get this over with."

"You're sure, right?" asked Sebastian.

"_Goddammit, yes_."

"Ok, ok." Sebastian crawled onto the bed and gingerly reached out a hand, tracing the contours of Carson's chest with his fingers. "You're really beautiful, you know," he said quietly. He leaned down and started sucking a kiss into Carson's neck, and Carson had enough experience with Kurt doing the same to recognize that this was going to leave a hickey.

_Good. Kurt will see it. He'll see it and he'll know what it felt like for me every time he came home with a fucking constellation on his neck._

He felt a wave of sadness as he thought about Kurt and quickly tried to shove it away from his mind. If he was going to go through with this, he couldn't be thinking of his twin, or he wouldn't be able to do it. He tried to concentrate on the feeling of Sebastian's lips traveling down from his neck and kissing their way onto his chest. He tried to enjoy it, even, but it just wasn't happening. Yeah, it felt nice, but it was just lips on skin. Nothing more. He knew for a fact that if Kurt did the same thing to him, he would be rock hard by now. There was absolutely nothing happening in his pants as Sebastian worked his way down his stomach, paying slightly more attention to the area below Carson's belly button than he had anywhere else.

"Not having fun?" Sebastian quipped, brushing his hand against the front of Carson's jeans. "I mean, I hate to sound selfish, but...not even a wiggle down here? I'm kind of hurt."

"It's the alcohol," Carson mumbled. He was failing miserably at not thinking about Kurt, because Kurt's face was all he _could_ think about. Specifically, what it would look like if he could see what was going on right now.

_Like he would care. He's too busy tending to Bobby's busted face_.

Still. Carson was losing his resolve with every passing second. What had he been thinking? He couldn't do this.

"S...stop," he murmured as he felt Sebastian's fingers working the top button of his pants. "Stop, please."

Sebastian sat up immediately and looked at him, the concern in his eyes looking out of place on him. "What's up? You ok?"

Carson bit his lip and shook his head. "No."

"Do you want to stop?"

"...Yes," Carson answered miserably. He sat up and hugged his arms over himself, staring at the floral pattern on the bedspread, trying not to cry. Crying in front of Sebastian was the last thing he needed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I...I thought I could do this, but I...I c-can't."

Sebastian nodded and looked down at his hands. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to."

"I'm sorry," Carson said again, not sure whether he was addressing Sebastian, himself, or the Kurt in his imagination.

"It's cool. Don't worry about it," said Sebastian, getting up and locating his shirt on the bedroom floor. "But can I give you some advice?"

Carson snorted. "And what possible advice could _you_ give me?"

Sebastian slipped on his shirt and handed Carson his. "If I were you, I would tell him how you feel. Before it's too late."

Carson felt his eyes growing as wide as saucers. "Wait, what?"

Sebastian didn't answer him. He merely flashed him a big, cheesy grin before heading out of the bedroom door, still buttoning up his shirt and leaving Carson to take a long, hard look at his life.

_Kurt, I couldn't do it. I didn't do it. I'm sorry. I love you._

* * *

Kurt honestly just really wanted to go home. The night and Santana's party had been a complete disaster from the very beginning, what with Blaine practically hanging on him like a vine and not allowing him a moment alone to even breathe. He should have known as soon as Sebastian showed up that everything would have gone even more downhill. He still couldn't believe that he had shown up at all, or that Blaine had invited him when his boyfriend had specifically promised him he wouldn't talk to him behind his back anymore. And Carson...Carson had _kissed_ Sebastian. And it had felt like a violent punch in the gut. Kurt had wanted nothing more in the moment he saw it happening than to run over and punch Sebastian right in the throat for touching Carson. Because Carson was supposed to be Kurt's, and nobody was supposed to touch him, especially not an asshole like Sebastian.

And then Kurt remembered that he had no right to say anything. Because he had chosen to stay with Blaine rather than put him through a traumatic breakup. Had chosen not go to to Chicago with Carson, because he was afraid that things would happen, and he didn't want to become a cheater. And Carson was right. He was free and single. And needed no one's permission to do whatever he wanted, least of all Kurt's.

"What was Carson talking about?" he asked Blaine after Carson had stalked off and Kurt had led his boyfriend into the Lopez kitchen to put ice on his swelling eye. He found some ice in the freezer (which, interestingly, took a while; the Lopez freezer was _huge_ and was stocked to the brim) and wrapped some in a towel, creating a compress.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, wincing as the ice made contact with the sensitive skin.

"Blaine, come on. You know what I mean." Kurt dabbed the compress gently on Blaine's eye and looked at him. "About _West Side Story_."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't know, baby. Your brother is a little on the psycho side..._ow_!" he exclaimed as Kurt rubbed the ice a little too hard.

"Blaine, Scandals happened around that time," said Kurt quietly. "You were...you were awfully eager to lose our virginities together all of a sudden. Why?"

Blaine sighed and looked him in the eye. "Ok, yeah, Artie suggested that _maybe_ Rachel and I should have sex. Not with each other, I mean. With Finn. And you. Shit, that didn't come out right, either. You know what I mean. To act better."

"So Carson was right," Kurt said, as realization and understanding settled in his brain. "You only wanted to sleep with me for a role."

Blaine shook his head vigorously. "Kurt...Kurt, no," he slurred drunkenly. "I wouldn't have pushed you if you really didn't want to."

"Really, Blaine?" said Kurt. "Because you were being awfully pushy outside that bar. And, you know, you seem to have a real problem with the word _no _in general."

"Aw, but Kurt, I...ok, I know I can be a little..um...but...you know...I'm trying to change that. Kurt. Please," Blaine stammered. "I'm sorry."

"Blaine, I.."

"Kurt, come on. That was months ago, and I love you. You can't hold that against me now, can you? I love you."

Kurt sighed and handed Blaine the ice compress. "Hold this to your eye, ok? I'm going to go see if Carson is ok."

"So what if he is? Kurt, he punched me," Blaine whined. "Just leave him alone!"

"He's my brother, Blaine," protested Kurt.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, he's your _brother_. Among other things, I'm sure," Blaine muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Kurt defensively.

"Nothing. Fuck, nothing. Go. Go check on him and stroke his ego like you always do," replied Blaine. "I'll be fine."

Kurt bit his lip and almost stayed put, but he mentally shook himself. No. He wasn't going to be told what he could and couldn't do. He was worried about Carson, and he was going to go check on him. He walked out of the kitchen and looked around the living room. Everybody was drunkenly dancing along to the music on the sound system, and there was no sign of Carson.

"Did anyone see where Carson went?" he asked loudly. Nobody seemed to hear him except Puck who stopped dancing long enough to nod.

"Yeah, dude. He was going with that Sebastian guy upstairs last time I saw him. Right after he punched Blaine. Is he ok, by the way?"

Kurt didn't answer him, because he couldn't. Carson had done _what_? He tried to ignore the rising feeling of panic in his stomach as he remembered the kiss from earlier.

_No. No, no, no, oh god, no. He wouldn't DARE...not with my brother...it was bad enough trying to do it with Blaine, he can't fucking do this to me_.

He was about to sprint up the stairs (to do what, he had no idea...burst in and stop them?), but stopped short as a pair of feet came bounding down them. Sebastian appeared at the bottom, fixing the buttons on his shirt and trying to tuck the tail back into his pants. Kurt felt sick.

"What the fuck did you do to him, you pervert?" Kurt practically screamed, launching himself at Sebastian and pushing violently at the other boy's shoulders. "Where is he?"

Sebastian held his hands up as if he were being arrested and gave him an amused smile. "Calm down, Princess. Let's just say I didn't do anything he didn't _want_ me to do."

Kurt gave him one last push and hurried up the stairs, peering into every room until he found the one where Carson was sitting at the end of a bed, his shirt off and his head buried in his hands.

"Carson?" he said quietly, his adrenaline rush gone and replaced with a feeling of nausea as he took in his twin's appearance. His hair was mussed, his shirt was laying beside him on the bed, and worst of all, there was a hickey the size of a small planet resting proudly on his neck.

_Oh dear god, shoot me. Just fucking shoot me. I can't deal with this_, thought Kurt miserably as Carson removed his face from his hands and turned to look at him.

"What do you want, Kurt?"

"I...what...what happened here?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer. He could feel his bottom lip quivering in preparation to start crying.

"Why does it matter?" asked Carson, reaching down to button up his jeans, which Kurt hadn't even realized were undone and which made him feel even sicker. "Like I said before, it's none of your business what I do or who I do it with. I'm a single guy, you know. Plus, I'm not in _our_ bed."

Kurt swallowed, trying to hold back the tears, but they were starting to leak out anyway. "Carson, I...Sebastian, of all people?"

Carson shrugged. "He was here, and he obviously wanted me."

"He's a complete jerk," protested Kurt, refusing to believe what had obviously happened. "He...he...did you at least use protection?"

Carson didn't answer him, just looked down at his shoes. Kurt's tears were flowing now, and he couldn't stop them. Just the thought of Sebastian's hands on Carson made him want to start punching things.

"…..He tried to blind me, Carson," he said in an almost-whisper. He saw Carson swallow before he reached for his shirt and pulled it on without a word.

"You should go check on Bumpkin. Make sure I didn't puncture his eyeball downstairs. Heaven forbid," Carson said.

"But-"

"Kurt, _please_," Carson pleaded, refusing to look at him. "I just...I want to be alone for awhile. Ok?"

Kurt swallowed and nodded, backing slowly out of the room. He shut the door behind him and leaned up against it, letting his tears flow freely. His stomach was in knots and he wanted to find Sebastian and beat him until he was bloody.

_It's not supposed to be this way. This isn't how the story is supposed to go. Damn it, how did it get like this?_

* * *

The next few days were some of the most awkward of Carson's life as he and Kurt basically danced around each other, barely saying two words to each other at a time. Carson felt guilty as hell that he had let Kurt believe anything went on between him and Sebastian, but in the moment he hadn't had the strength to tell him that he'd stopped it. Because then he would have had to tell him why. And he was drunk and tired and in no way ready to have that conversation. But Kurt's reaction had almost killed him. He had cried. There'd been tears. And _Carson_ had been the cause of them. He hated himself so much for that. He wanted to just scoop Kurt up in his arms right then and kiss him and hug him, and assure him that no, he hadn't had sex with Sebastian. That he couldn't, because it would feel disloyal to Kurt.

And to make things worse, the date on which he would have to leave for Chicago and move into his new apartment was drawing closer, and Carson was afraid that he would end up leaving with him and Kurt still acting awkwardly around each other. He didn't think he could handle that if it happened. He would feel so awful, especially knowing that he was leaving Kurt all alone.

No. He had to apologize and explain. He had to say _something_ before he left. He couldn't leave Kurt like this. He made his decision as he finished packing the bag he would take on the bus to Chicago (most of his stuff would be delivered when he got there, but he was taking along some basic things like clothes, and some precious things he didn't want to risk losing, like Kurt's picture frame). He would just go find Kurt, and-

"Carsey?"

Carson turned to see Kurt in the bedroom doorway, wringing his hands and looking nervous. "Can, um...can we talk?"

Carson smiled. "Yes. Yes, Kurt, of course we can." He sat down on the bed and patted the spot beside him. Kurt took it, looking down at his feet and taking a deep breath before speaking.

"I...I miss you," he said. "I'm _going to _miss you, and I...I didn't want you to leave while we...while we're still...I mean, we're not fighting, exactly, but...well...I just want you to know, I..." He paused and played with the nail of his thumb.

"What is it, Kurtsie?" asked Carson, taking his hand and gently rubbing his fingers over Kurt's knuckles.

"I... I just...can we make up and forget about last weekend?" Kurt asked in a small voice. "I don't...I don't want to talk about it, I just...you're leaving the day after tomorrow, and I just want to enjoy my last hours with you. This is it. This is the last time we're ever going to be...going to be _us_, and I..." He stopped talking and sniffed, his eyes leaking tears and his face scrunching up as he cried.

"Shhh, Kurtsie," Carson soothed, wrapping him in a hug. "Of course, baby. We...we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I.."

"Carsey, no. Please. I really just want to forget it," Kurt said, hugging him back tightly. "I just want to pretend it's like old times for the next thirty-six hours. Can we do that?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course we can." He reached up a hand to stroke Kurt's hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I'm going to miss you too, you know. Probably more than you're going to miss me."

Kurt smiled sadly. "I don't think that's possible."

"It's not too late for you to come with me," said Carson hopefully. Kurt hesitated and shook his head.

"I can't. I'm sorry," he said. Carson nodded sadly.

"Ok. But...but just know that if you should _ever_ change your mind, you can call me and I will come pick you up myself," he said determinedly.

"But you sold your death trap of a car," Kurt pointed out. "How would you get here?"

"I'll fly if I have to," said Carson, only half joking. "But if you change your mind, I _will_ get you to me. Ok?"

Kurt smiled and nodded. "Ok."

They spent Carson's last day at home together, pretending that it was like old times. There was no Blaine to ruin it, even. Just them. And a festive goodbye dinner with the whole family, Sam included (but not Finn...he had left for Georgia almost right after graduation). Burt looked close to tears a few times as he told stories of when the twins were little and their mother was alive, and Carson really wished he would stop, because he did _not_ need to start crying himself at the table. Fortunately, he was able to hold himself together.

His breaking point came when it was time for bed and he and Kurt were climbing into their respective sides for the last time. Carson held out his arms wordlessly and Kurt burrowed into them, his breath shaky as he settled into a comfortable position.

"I'm gonna be by myself tomorrow," he said quietly. "It's going to feel so strange not having you with me. I could barely handle it at Dalton when I knew I would see you every weekend."

"I know, Kurtsie," said Carson, hugging him close. "But you have Carson Bear, remember? You hug him, you hug me."

"I also stole one of your hoodies," said Kurt. "I'm going to put it on a pillow."

Carson laughed. "That's fine. I stole one of your scarves." He heard Kurt giggle softly and then sigh.

"I love you, Carson," he said softly.

Carson summoned all his strength and managed not to cry. "I love you too, Kurtsie." He held Kurt until his twin's breathing turned deep and even, indicating he was asleep. That was when he allowed himself to cry. He sobbed as quietly as he could, hoping not to wake Kurt, because he couldn't have Kurt see him like this. He couldn't believe he was leaving tomorrow and would never have told Kurt how he truly felt. What kind of coward was he? He couldn't leave without getting something like that off his chest. What if his bus crashed and he never saw Kurt again? Then what? Kurt would never know, and...

He heaved a huge breath and made a decision on the spot. One way or another, he was going to say what he should have said years ago. Kurt was asleep. He would hear nothing, but...but maybe the message would get through to him somehow. Through a dream, maybe.

"Kurt," he whispered, so as not to wake him. "There's something I need to say, and I'm too much of a coward to say it to you when you're awake. But I didn't want to leave here without at least saying it out loud, even if you can't hear me."

He felt Kurt shift softly in his sleep and almost had a panic attack, but his twin's breathing remained even, so he summoned the willpower to continue.

"God, this is hard for me to say. I...I love you," he said, feeling a rush of relief as the words left his mouth. "Not like, you know, as my brother, but...I really _love _you. You know...in...in that way. And I never told you because I was scared of what you would say, or that you would feel uncomfortable around me, and I thought I could stop feeling this way, but I can't, Kurt. I've tried, but I can't. And I've wanted to tell you so many times. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I'd have told you before you started dating _him_. I know it probably wouldn't have made a difference, but...I guess deep in my heart I hope maybe it would have. And I...I just...I want you to know...if I overprotected you or held you too close or worried too much all these years, it was only because I love you and couldn't ever stand to see you hurt. I couldn't go through with having sex with Sebastian. I told him to stop before we did anything, because I...oh, Kurt, all I could see in my brain was your face and I just couldn't do it. I only considered doing it in the first place to make you jealous, and I'm sorry for that."

He absentmindedly stroked his hand down Kurt's arm, rubbing small circles into his hand as the words continued to pour out of him, unable to be stopped now even if he wanted to. "And I still secretly hope that if you ever decide that you're done with the hobbit, that maybe you would...maybe you would consider me. I know it's stupid to hope that, but...you know me and how I always hope for things that I know I can't have." He pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's shoulder. "As long as we're always in each other's lives, I'll be content just to love you from a distance, ok?"

He brushed his fingers against Kurt's hand again and his heart leaped into his throat as he felt Kurt's hand grab his, squeezing it with a tight grip.

_Oh god...oh god, oh god..._

"K-kurt?" he asked cautiously. "Kurtsie?" He listened for anything to indicate that Kurt was listening. "Oh god, Kurt...are you awake?" he asked in a small, choked up voice. He waited for a long time, but there was no answer from his twin. He eventually breathed a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment and kissed Kurt's ear softly.

"Goodnight, Kurtsie. I...I love you."

As Carson drifted off to sleep, Kurt stared wide-eyed into the darkness, kicking himself for not having the courage to turn around and kiss him after that speech.

_You're a coward, Kurt Hummel. A coward who doesn't deserve Carson._

* * *

The day Carson left was the lowest day of Kurt's life. He could barely eat breakfast or string two words together as he watched his twin bustle around the house, taking care of last minute things. It had finally hit him that this was the last morning for a very long time that he was ever going to get to spend with Carson, and it was making him depressed. Not to mention that he was still mentally kicking himself in the balls for not saying something the night before while Carson was pretty much pouring his heart out to him. He had wanted to. He'd very badly wanted to just turn around and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. But he had chickened out, and now he felt like he _couldn't_ say anything. He wouldn't know how to bring it up, and Carson had enough to worry about this morning.

He was silent all morning and barely said anything on the ride to the bus station. He stood silently by as he watched Carole say goodbye to Carson, and then their dad wrapped him in a hug.

"I'm gonna miss you, kid," he said, fighting back tears.

"I'll miss you too, Dad," said Carson.

"You call me the second you arrive, you hear me?"

"I will, Dad."

They hugged for several more minutes, and then Burt let go, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. Carson turned to Kurt and just looked at him for a minute.

"Um...I guess this is it," he said. Kurt nodded.

"Yeah. I guess so," he agreed, hoping he wouldn't cry and knowing that it was useless, because he could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes already. He looked at Carson for a second and then launched himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around him and squeezing like his life depended on it.

"I love you, Carsey," he said. "I love you so much, and I'm going to miss you, and I...I...I don't want you to go. I just want things to stay the same."

Carson rubbed his back and kissed his ear. "I know, Kurtsie. We knew this day would come, baby."

"I know, I just didn't think it would be this soon. Or ever. I'm not ready," said Kurt, sobbing now.

"Shhh," soothed Carson. "I know. I'm going to miss you, too. But I promise, I will call you and text you and bug the shit out of you. You'll be cursing my name by tomorrow afternoon."

Kurt giggled through his tears. "I couldn't ever be sick of you."

"I'll take that as a challenge," said Carson, hugging him tight. "And remember, if you change your mind, I'm only four hours away. You can come stay with me any time you want. Ok?"

Kurt nodded against his shoulder. "Ok."

The final boarding call was announced then, and Kurt reluctantly let go of Carson, who reached out a hand and gently brushed away Kurt's tears with his thumb. "Don't be a stranger," he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

Kurt shook his head. "Never."

Carson gave him one final smile and waved at Burt and Carole before stepping onto the bus, looking briefly back at Kurt before he did so. The doors closed and Kurt could see Carson settling into a seat by the window, looking out of it and spotting him. He smiled and touched his fingers to the glass, and Kurt raised his hand in a wave in return as the bus started moving.

_No. No, don't take him. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet, please..._

Carson's eyes never left that window, nor did Kurt's. They gazed at one another until the bus got too far away to see anymore. Not that Kurt could have seen anything, anyway. At that point, his eyes were completely clouded over with tears.

* * *

It took Kurt approximately forty-eight hours to be completely worn down by life without Carson. He just couldn't handle it. The first night was a nightmare, literally. He had talked to Carson on the phone (for the thousandth time that day...Carson had called him almost as soon as the bus had disappeared out of the station that morning and they had spoken off and on throughout the entire day). He had done his facial routine, dragging it out as long as possible to avoid going to bed, but eventually he had no choice but to slide between the sheets on his side of the bed and let it sink in that he was completely alone. Well, not completely, perhaps. He had Carson Bear clutched in one hand, and a pillow covered in Carson's hoodie at his back, taking the place Carson normally would have filled. But there was nobody on Carson's side of the bed. And there would never be again. He sighed and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, opening up a blank text message.

_**I miss you. -Kurtsie**_

_**-I miss you too, baby. This apartment is so empty. It's creepy. -Carsey**_

_**-I love you.**_

_**-I love you, too.**_

Kurt let out a breath and turned out the lamp, holding Carson Bear tightly and hoping that the real Carson could feel it in Chicago.

_I love you, Carsey. I love you the way you love me. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before you left._

Kurt woke up that night in the kitchen, with absolutely no memory of how he got there. He did know, however, that he had been dreaming of something big and frightening chasing him. And that he had been looking for Carson. And Carson hadn't been there.

_Stupid nightmares. I guess I'll be sleepwalking a lot now that Carson isn't here to come find me._

He settled back into bed and tried to sleep, but it was no use. Sleep wasn't going to come. He couldn't fall back asleep without Carson holding him. He knew he had to try, but he just couldn't. He bit his lip and held back tears as he grazed his fingers over his phone. Would Carson mind him calling so late?

_He did say to call any time_, he thought as he threw caution to the wind and dialed Carson's number.

"You can't sleep either?" his twin asked, picking up on the first ring.

"I had a nightmare," Kurt said quietly into the phone. "I woke up in the kitchen."

"Aaaw, baby, I'm sorry," said Carson sympathetically. "I wish I had been there to put you back to bed."

"Me too," said Kurt with a shaky sigh. "Will...will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course, Kurtsie," said Carson. "Of course I will."

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

By the next night, Kurt had reached a decision. He simply couldn't stay behind in Lima by himself. It would destroy him, especially since he would be stuck there until at least the spring, if not longer, and he just didn't have it in him. As he hugged Carson Bear close and hung up the phone from Carson's latest call, he smiled to himself as he finalized his choice. He was going to join Carson in Chicago the very first chance he got. Carson had been right. He could practice living in a big city until his time to shine in New York came. And until then, he would have Carson.

He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face at the thought.

* * *

"You can't go to Chicago," said Blaine the next day when Kurt came over to tell him the news.

Kurt blinked and looked at him in confusion. "I have to, Blaine. I can't...I just...I can't stay here. I feel..." He trailed off, wondering how best to finish that sentence. _Incomplete without my brother_ didn't feel like it would fly, somehow.

Blaine narrowed his eyes. "Is this about Carson? Come on, Kurt, we _just_ got him to leave us alone and you want to go running back to him?"

"No," Kurt lied. "I just...Blaine, I don't want to stay here in Lima into the fall. I have to go somewhere, and Chicago is a good choice. I can practice living in a city, and...and Carson is there, yes. I'll have somewhere secure to stay. I know you probably think that makes me pathetic, or whatever, but..."

"No," said Blaine. "You're not pathetic. It's just that you're...you're stuck. You don't belong here anymore. I understand."

Kurt nodded. "Exactly. Thank you."

"But Kurt, you _can't_ go to Chicago," said Blaine fiercely. "That's just...no. You can't. I absolutely refuse to support that. You belong in New York."

"And I'm reapplying for NYADA," Kurt reminded him. "But I can't just go to New York."

"You don't need NYADA," said Blaine. "And I'll hate to see you go, but if you feel that strongly about it, then you can't stay here. It would kill you, and kill me. But not Chicago, Kurt. New York."

"Blaine, what would I _do_ in New York? I wouldn't have any place to stay, or anything to do there," said Kurt.

"But you would find something, Kurt. New York is your dream. Remember?" Blaine pressed, gripping at Kurt's arms tightly. "Come on. Trust me on this."

"Chicago is closer," Kurt pointed out. "We could see each other more often."

Blaine shrugged. "Yeah, but don't you want to follow your dream? Chicago is _not_ your dream."

Kurt sighed. He hated to admit it, but the thought of going to New York was, although terrifying, also slightly...adventurous. Blaine was probably right. New York _was_ his dream. It had always been. And he supposed it would be fun. And easier than moving twice in such a short span of time.

And he really _did_ have to learn how to live apart from Carson.

But he didn't want to go alone. Maybe if he had someone to make the journey with him. Someone who would want to live there, too...

He smiled as he left Blaine's house and reached into his pocket for his phone, dialing a number as he opened his car door.

"Rachel? What would you say if I told you I had a wild idea?"

* * *

Kurt sat back and looked around at his new surroundings. Sure, the huge warehouse-like rental space in Bushwick he and Rachel had found on their limited budget was kind of drafty and disgusting, but he was sure with a little paint and some of his patented Kurt Hummel decorating flair, they could have it looking livable in no time. Maybe even homey.

It had taken some convincing, but he had finally managed to get Rachel to agree to come live with him in New York. He was glad to have her, even if she was probably going to be a pain at times to live with. He really didn't want to live by himself, and he'd pointed out that this way Rachel wouldn't have to deal with the dorms at NYADA come the fall.

"Think of all the privacy you'll have to practice your singing," he'd said. That, he thought, had probably been what finally convinced her. That, and the fact that Finn had basically broken up with her to go to Georgia, so she pretty much had no reason to stay in Lima for the summer besides to be with her dads. And even they had told her that going with Kurt was a good idea.

"Good idea my ass," Carson had said when Kurt had called and told him the news. "They were probably glad to be rid of her. I know if I was them, I would have sold her back to Shelby after the first year. I'm glad you're not alone, though."

Kurt giggled. "Oh, Carsey. Don't ever change, baby."

"Don't you change either. And...give her hell for me."

Kurt snorted. "I'll do my best."

They still had yet to get their beds or much of anything besides a few basic things, but they would have them soon enough. Burt and the Fathers Berry were shipping them their things from Lima as quickly as possible. For now, it was sort of fun. Like camping. And at least Kurt had his face creams. And Carson Bear. And his Carson hoodie pillow. Those things were the most important.

"We definitely have to paint this place," said Rachel as they prepared to go to sleep on their first night. "I love it, but it's depressing."

"I agree," said Kurt. "We'll hit up a hardware store this weekend and see what we can do." He picked up his phone and dialed Carson's number, barely making it past the first ring before his twin picked up.

"How are things, Kurtsie? How's New York? Are you still alive? No muggers or pickpockets?"

Kurt grinned. "Nice to see you're worrying just as much as ever."

"Oh, hush, you know I worry too much. It's who I am," replied Carson.

"Yes, I know. And I love that about you," said Kurt. "New York is great, but I miss you."

"I miss you, too," said Carson. "So much. I really want to see you again."

"You should come visit when Rachel and I get the place looking more livable," said Kurt, feeling a pang of homesickness in his chest. He would give anything to be leaning into Carson's arms right now, but New York was where he belonged.

"Do I get to play practical jokes on Rachel?" Carson asked hopefully.

Kurt sighed. "Fine. I suppose that's doable." He could practically hear Carson grinning on the other end.

"Are you going to sleep?" Carson asked.

"I was gonna try," replied Kurt with a yawn.

"Shall I stay on the line until you fall asleep?"

Kurt smiled. "Yes. Yes, you should. I would love that."

"Ok," said Carson. "You know I love you, right?"

"I do," replied Kurt softly, with a small sigh. "I do. And I love you, too."


	22. Chapter 22

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey! Welcome to the halfway point of this story! (No, seriously, this thing is an epic opus and will be going on for quite some time). Not much to say here, really, just...happy reading! And as always, we adore you, our readers, more than Carson's going to enjoy...um...just start reading.**

During the day, Carson really enjoyed his new life in Chicago. It was, in some respects, everything he'd always dreamed of ever since he was a kid. For starters, he had his very own apartment, sort of. Obviously it still technically belonged to someone else, and some of that guy's stuff was still scattered around here and there, but still. For the next year, it was Carson's personal sanctuary, and as far as apartments went, it was pretty nice. It was clean and presentable and didn't seem to be harboring any roaches or mice, so that was a win. Granted, some of his surrounding neighbors were pretty obnoxious. Like the kids who lived in the apartment above him, who screamed and carried on every day between 3pm and 8pm as if they were being set on fire and being chased by a herd of wild elephants at the same time, judging by all the stomping. And whoever it was living below him, who enjoyed yelling at their television set whenever _Jeopardy_ came on. And Mrs. Moore, the older woman next door, who was the very definition of a cougar and apparently thought he was hot, because she took every opportunity to shamelessly flirt with him. She was the most obnoxious, because Carson never knew how to gracefully remove himself from her presence whenever they happened to meet in the hallway.

But whatever. None of that mattered, because, hello. _He had his own apartment_. That alone made him feel like a real adult. And he didn't spend very much time in it, anyway, because he had found a job working most afternoons at a small, independent bookstore only several blocks from his building. He was wondering if his strong aversion to people and most social situations was just a Lima thing, because he found that he quite liked his co-workers and most of the store's regular customers. Then again, it also could have just been the shiny newness of living somewhere that wasn't an oppressive small town. It wasn't like he went out on the town with people all of a sudden or anything. Because his nights were reserved for sitting quietly by himself in his new bedroom, staring out the window and wondering what Kurt was doing right then. If he was maybe staring out his own window in New York and thinking about him. He hoped so. He liked to think they were looking at the sky at the same time.

The absence of Kurt was the one thing Carson absolutely hated about his new life. None of the positive things quite outweighed the fact that he missed him terribly. It felt so strange, after an entire lifetime spent with Kurt, to not have him nearby anymore. Sure, Carson had gotten a taste of that when Kurt was at Dalton, but that was different. Dalton was only two hours away, and they had seen each other every weekend. Now they were so much further apart, and they wouldn't be seeing each other very often at all. And the thought of his precious Kurt making his way in New York all by himself made Carson worry more than he ever had before. New York was a big place, full of many diverse people, and some of those people, Carson knew, would not have good intentions. He worried constantly that Kurt would get mugged, or attacked, or kidnapped and murdered. He knew he probably drove Kurt nuts with his constant phone calls and texts to check that he was alive, but it was the only way he knew to put his mind at ease.

"Carson, did anybody ever tell you that you worry entirely too much?" asked Kurt with a laugh one night as he answered Carson's eighth phone call of the day. It was Carson's day off, which meant he'd had nothing to occupy his mind all day other than worrying thoughts of all the horrible things that could be happening to his twin at any second.

"You've been known to say it on occasion," Carson quipped. "I just can't help it. My precious baby brother is all alone in New York City. Anything could happen to you. You don't even want to know all the horrible things I worry about when I have nothing to do."

"I'm a big boy, Carsey," replied Kurt. "I'm not completely helpless, you know. All I have to do is act like a complete crazy person when walking alone at night, and everyone leaves me alone."

"You walk alone at _night_?" asked Carson, horrified.

"Well, I have Rachel with me sometimes," said Kurt. "When she's not hanging out with her new man candy, that is."

"Oh, yeah, like she would be much better than a plastic knife as far as protection goes. And Christ, she works fast," Carson mused. "She's only been in New York for a few weeks and she's already starting relationship drama? Not that I care, but aren't her and Finn still sort of a thing?"

"I have no idea," replied Kurt in a bored voice. "Neither of us have heard from him since graduation, so."

"Anyway, the important thing is that I do _not_ approve of you walking anywhere alone at night," said Carson, sitting up on his bed and pulling his knees up to his chin in order to hug them with one arm. "What if some psycho is laying in wait with a knife, looking for the perfect victim?"

"Carson, I promise, if that ever happened I would just shove Rachel at them and run," said Kurt, and Carson could hear the amused smile on his twin's face on the other end.

"See that you do," said Carson seriously.

"Crazy knife wielding psychos could just as easily be laying in wait during the day," said Kurt after a beat of silence.

"_Kurt!_"

"Sorry," said Kurt. "I'm just saying."

"Well, don't! I don't want to have to worry about you any more than I already do," Carson whined.

"Aaaw, Carsey, I'm sorry," soothed Kurt. "So, what's new with you since the last time you called?"

"Nothing, Kurt. That was only two hours ago," replied Carson. "What about you?"

"Funny you should ask," replied Kurt, in the adorable _"I know something you don't know_" voice he always used when he was teasing.

"Oh?" asked Carson, intrigued. "Do I detect that Kurtsie has news?"

"Well, sort of. Maybe. I don't know yet, exactly," said Kurt. "To make a long story short, I may or may not have an interview for an internship tomorrow."

Carson sat up straighter and smiled into the phone. "An internship? Kurt, that's great! Where at?"

"_Vogue_," answered Kurt. "But don't get too excited or anything. I emailed them a portfolio of some of my better outfits over the years. They probably won't take me, though."

"Kurt, are you insane? Of course they'll take you!" exclaimed Carson. "Nobody knows fashion better than you, baby. And you've been reading _Vogue_ since you were able to reach Mom's copies on the coffee table and look through the pictures. You were born for this."

"That's true," agreed Kurt. "Still, though. I don't want to get my hopes up."

"I'll get mine up enough for both of us, then," said Carson. "Kurt, this is exciting! I want you to call me as soon as you can after your interview and tell me everything!"

Kurt laughed. "Ok, ok. I will. I promise."

"I mean it. I really want to know."

"Ok, Carsey," Kurt assured him. "Calling you will be the first thing I do when I'm finished. I promise. Now, I'm going to hang up so I can shower and do my face. I'll call you before I go to sleep, ok?"

"Ok," agreed Carson. "Later."

"Later."

Carson hung up his phone and settled back on his bed, grinning like a complete idiot. He had no doubt Kurt would get that internship. He wasn't in Lima anymore. He was in New York, and New York wasn't nearly as full of small-minded idiots as their hometown was. They knew talent and brilliance when they saw it. And clearly _Vogue_ had liked what they saw if they had even contacted Kurt for an interview in the first place.

_You'll get it, baby. You'll get it, and I'm going to be so very proud of you. And everybody is going to know it._

He took the opportunity while Kurt was busy to take his own shower and put on his pajama pants. He adjusted the photo frame Kurt had given him for Christmas so that it faced the side of the bed he slept on, and then he retrieved Kurt's scarf from its storage space inside the pillowcase, spreading it on top of the pillow that he hugged every night. He had just settled into bed with the pillow in front of him when his phone rang.

"Hi, Kurtsie," he said as he answered, not even bothering to check the caller I.D.

"You're in bed already, aren't you?" asked Kurt. Carson nodded, then remembered that Kurt couldn't see him.

"Yes," he replied. "With my hugging pillow and your scarf. It's a poor substitute for you, but at least it smells like you."

"Aaaw, Carsey," said Kurt. "I miss you, too. I have my pillow with your hoodie and Carson Bear. I'm going to give him a hug now, ok?"

"Ok," said Carson. He was beginning to think he really _could_ feel those hugs that Kurt gave the bear, because he felt a warm, comforting sensation deep in his stomach. He could just picture Kurt, in his pajamas, probably still on his own side of the bed even though he had no one to share it with now, squeezing the teddy bear to his chest with his eyes shut. The thought made Carson's heart ache with longing and homesickness.

"Feel that?" asked Kurt quietly. Carson nodded, again forgetting that his twin couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he replied, not bothering to stop the few tears that leaked out of his eyes, but at least trying to keep his voice steady. "I wish I could hug you for real, though."

"I know," said Kurt. "This is...this is really hard to deal with."

There was silence for a minute, and then Carson cleared his throat, trying to sound upbeat.

"So," he said. "Tomorrow. Call me after your interview. Don't forget."

Kurt laughed. "I won't, Carsey. Um...Carson?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay on the line until I fall asleep? It's just...Rachel is out with Brody, and this place is really big. And empty," Kurt said in a small voice.

"Of course, Kurtsie," replied Carson, feeling awful for him and wishing he was there in New York to hug Kurt close and make him feel protected and safe. "You try to go to sleep, sweetheart. I'll be right here."

"Ok," said Kurt with a sigh. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby," replied Carson, settling his phone and its charger on top of his makeshift Kurt pillow and hugging the pillow to himself, breathing in the scent emanating from the scarf and letting it envelop his senses. "So much."

"I know," said Kurt.

"What time is your interview?" asked Carson.

"Ten."

"And you have to take the subway?"

"You know I do, Carson."

"I don't like you taking the subway," Carson said. "Do you know how many murderers, rapists, and thieves take the subway? Like, at least a hundred. Per hour."

"Carson, come on. You're not making me feel any better about being alone in this empty apartment," said Kurt. "Besides, it's not like I've never taken it before. And I'm still breathing."

"Well, I still don't like it. I worry," answered Carson with a yawn.

"I know you do. But I promise you, I will still be alive this time tomorrow," assured Kurt. "Now, I'm going to try to sleep. I need beauty rest if I have any prayer in the universe of impressing _Vogue_."

"Ok, baby. Go to sleep."

"Good night, Carsey."

"Good night." Carson heard rustling as Kurt settled into position and he wished for the millionth time that he was there to hold him. It felt so unnatural, being so far apart for such a long time. He blew a kiss into the phone and hugged his Kurt pillow again, eventually drifting off to sleep with visions of Kurt on a magazine cover flitting through his brain.

He woke up late the next morning and had to very quickly eat and get himself dressed and ready before heading out the door to go to work.

"Morning, handsome," said Mrs. Moore, stepping outside her apartment as if she had some kind of radar for when Carson was coming out of his.

"Uuuh...um...yeah...morning," Carson mumbled, quickly bypassing her and scurrying into the elevator. He'd have to remember to start leaving the apartment with headphones on or something so he could avoid awkward run-ins. He stepped off the elevator onto the first floor and headed outside, hoping he wasn't going to be too late for work. He was still half a block away from the store when his phone rang, Kurt's smiling face filling the screen.

"Kurtsie!" Carson exclaimed, eagerly answering it. He'd almost forgotten all about Kurt's interview with _Vogue_ and felt like the world's worst brother. "Is the interview over? How did it go? They loved you, right?"

"I got it, Carsey!" Kurt squealed in excitement. "I got it! I freaking got it!"

"No!" Carson shrieked, not caring that he was in the middle of the street and that people were stopping to stare at him. "You did? You got it?"

"Yes!" said Kurt.

"Oh my god!"

"I know, I can't believe it!" Kurt squealed.

"I want details, Kurtsie," said Carson.

"Isabelle Wright interviewed me, Carsey. _Isabelle Wright," _said Kurt breathlessly.

"Awesome!" replied Carson, even though he had no idea who Isabelle Wright was. He figured she must be important, though, considering how excited Kurt was about meeting with her.

"She's the editor of the website, Carson," said Kurt, as though he could read Carson's mind. "And only one of my idols."

"That's great, Kurtsie! And she liked your portfolio?"

"She said she was impressed. She was _impressed_! I wasn't expecting her to be impressed! I mean, yeah, I knew my fashion choices over the years were very forward and bold, but...I mean, this was...you have no idea how excited I was, Carsey. And then I just started talking about how much fashion means to me, and she seemed to really like me, and long story short, I am _Vogue_'s newest intern!"

"Kurtsie, I'm so proud of you!" said Carson, grinning from ear to ear. "I knew it! I fucking _knew_ you would get it! I knew it wouldn't be like Lima where nobody appreciated you. That Isabelle chick is smart, and _Vogue_ is lucky to have you."

"Thanks, Carsey," said Kurt shyly, and Carson could tell he was probably blushing on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'll call you back later, ok? I want to call Dad and tell him."

"Ok," agreed Carson. "I have to go to work now, anyway, but I'll talk to you later. And...Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. And I'm proud to be your big brother," said Carson as he reached the door of the book shop. His heart really did feel like it was swelling with pride.

"Thank you, Carsey. I love you, too," replied Kurt.

"Talk to you later."

"Later."

Carson shoved his phone in his pocket and threw open the door of the shop, practically sprinting inside. "My baby brother just got an internship at _Vogue_!" he shouted in excitement to the shop in general, not noticing that there was nobody in it at the moment except for his co-worker, a college student named Gloria, who gave him an odd look.

"Um...that's great?" she said, giving him a small smile.

"Great? It's fantastic!" Carson said, unable to remove the grin from his face. "He got interviewed by _Isabelle Wright_."

"Who?" asked Gloria.

"No idea," replied Carson. "But she's a big shot and she loved Kurt, and now he's got something he really wanted and I'm _so proud of him, you have no idea!_" He gave Gloria an aggressive hug and squealed once more, not even caring that he was probably scaring the crap out of her. He just really felt the need to share the pride he felt for Kurt.

"Awesome," she replied, prying Carson off of her and stepping several paces away. "Why don't you stay over there, though." Carson barely heard her. He was too busy trying to send all the happy, positive vibes he could Kurt's way, hoping his twin could feel them where he was.

_I've never been prouder to be your brother, Kurtsie. Never._

* * *

If someone had told Kurt at the beginning of the year that by the summer he would be living in New York City, interning at his favorite magazine ever under the supervision of Isabelle Wright, of all people, he probably would have said they were completely insane. He probably still would have said this as recently as a month ago, actually. Who would have thought that something like this would ever happen to Kurt Hummel? And yet, here he was, living a life he had never actually intended to live, and loving every single minute of it. Well, not _every_ minute. He missed Carson so much it actually physically hurt sometimes, especially at night when he had to settle for a pillow and his teddy bear as substitutes for Carson's protective arms around him. They weren't even close to the same. And with Rachel usually out with her new friend Brody, he was often left all alone in their dark, sparse apartment at night, wishing he had Carson to snuggle up with. But aside from the Carson-shaped hole in his life, Kurt truly was loving New York. It was incredibly surreal, because things hardly ever went right for him, and he still couldn't believe this was his life now. It even took some of the sting out of not getting NYADA. _Some _of the sting. Not all. Not by a long shot. It did still kind of hurt when he had to watch Rachel researching what classes she was going to be taking come the fall.

_It's ok, though, Kurt, come on. You're interning at Vogue! Not only that, but they're using one of YOUR ideas to promote their new line! That's huge for you! And you'll reapply to NYADA in the spring. You at least owe Blaine for helping you make this decision. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be living this life at all right now._

Speaking of Blaine, Kurt hadn't really had the time lately to really talk to him much, and he felt really guilty about it, especially in light of his promise before graduation that they would keep in contact every day once Kurt had left. It wasn't that Kurt was intentionally trying to ignore him. He was just so busy all the time now with everything that he had to do for his new job, he barely had enough time left in his day to talk to Carson. At least Carson seemed to completely understand why Kurt had to cut back on the number of phone calls they had with each other daily.

"Of course, Kurtsie," he'd said one afternoon as Kurt profusely apologized that he had to cut their phone call short. "You're a busy guy now, hob-knobbing with all those _Vogue _power players and lighting up the city with your unsurpassed awesomeness."

Kurt snorted. "You're exaggerating just a little bit there, Carsey. I'm not that important."

"Yet," added Carson. "Anyway, of course I understand that you're busy, honey. Don't worry about it. You focus on kicking ass at that website, ok?"

"Ok," agreed Kurt, sighing as his office phone lit up with more calls that were waiting to be answered. "Bye. Love you."

"Love you," replied Carson as Kurt hung up.

Kurt tried to make the time to keep in touch with Blaine via phone calls and Skype conversations, but he really was having a hard time juggling his new responsibilities with maintaining his relationships. Despite his best efforts, sometimes those conversations were interrupted or unable to be as long as Kurt would have liked. Unfortunately, there was no magic solution for that. He had to take his job seriously, and Carson understood. Kurt hoped that Blaine did, as well, but he got the feeling that he didn't. Not exactly. Kurt felt a surge of guilt when he thought back to the last time he and Blaine had spoken on the phone, when he had tried to make time to call Blaine during a particularly busy day at _Vogue._

"I really miss you," Blaine had said in his lost puppy dog voice that always made Kurt feel terrible. "A lot, ok? I miss talking to you, and I miss hugging you, and I miss messing around with you."

"Me too," Kurt replied, getting the distinct feeling that the "messing around" part was what Blaine probably missed the most, if he had to guess. "But you're coming in two weeks, right?" he asked, referring to their last Skype conversation, during which Blaine had suggested that he could come to New York for a visit sometime soon and Kurt had somewhat reluctantly agreed (although he thought it would probably be best if Carson didn't find out about that).

"I know, but...what am I supposed to do until then?" asked Blaine. "Just hold my breath?"

Unfortunately, Kurt had had no choice but to cut the conversation short, as he was extremely tied up with work and it just was not a good time. He brushed aside the brief feeling of guilt by telling himself that he would make it up to Blaine when he came to visit.

He had in no way expected that visit to happen just several days after that phone call, but lo and behold, it had. Things were already awkward in the apartment because Finn had showed up unexpectedly (interrupting a private picnic between Rachel and Brody, apparently). Kurt had been tip-toeing around them and their tension for two days, spending a lot of his free time in the park watching drug deals happen in order to give them some privacy (and he didn't even want to think about what Carson would have to say about him doing that...probably something along the lines of _"You do WHAT? Do you have any idea how many terrible things could happen to you? I want you to promise me you won't do that anymore.")_

The three of them had been preparing to go out to a local piano bar one night when there had been a knock at the door and Kurt had opened it to see a huge bouquet of red roses, behind which stood Blaine. The flowers and Blaine's odd expression, an odd mixture of happy and sad, not to mention the slight foreboding feeling in Kurt's stomach, should probably have been his first clue that this was going to be a very tumultuous night.

Now, Kurt was sitting at a table in that piano bar, watching Blaine get up on the stage and sit behind the piano, and something about the way Blaine was carrying himself and acting in general was just not sitting right with him. He looked nervous, like he'd really rather not be there right now.

_Why does he look so sad?_ Kurt wondered, the foreboding feeling from earlier in the apartment returning with a vengeance. _What's wrong with him? I hope he's ok._

Blaine took a breath and leaned into the microphone on the piano. "I, um...I want to sing a song that's very special to me," he said as he began to play a soft melody. "This is the song that I sang the first time I ever met the love of my life. So, Kurt, this is for you."

He began to sing a very slow, very emotionally intense version of "Teenage Dream," and while Kurt was touched, he also couldn't help but feel extremely confused. Blaine just did _not_ look happy or comfortable. He looked sad, sadder than Kurt had ever seen him look, and then, to Kurt's horror, he started crying in the middle of the song.

_Why is he crying? Especially singing that song. That one is one of his favorites._ Kurt tried push aside his suspicions, but they were getting pretty hard to ignore. "Teenage Dream" had been the song that began their relationship, such as it was at the time. And now Blaine was singing it in such a melancholy way. Kurt somehow knew, even before Blaine had finished singing, that this was the beginning of the end. It had to be.

And truthfully, if Blaine had decided that he wanted to end things, then Kurt could live with that. He would be free now. He just really wished Blaine wouldn't look so sad about it. Kurt hated sadness in general.

"I really missed you," said Blaine by way of an explanation for "Teenage Dream" as he and Kurt took a walk in the park after leaving the bar.

"I missed you too," said Kurt carefully, giving him a small smile. "And I'm really glad that you're here, but you've been so emotional and weirdly sad," he continued, trying to catch Blaine's eye. His boyfriend was refusing to make direct eye contact, and it was making Kurt uneasy. "Please stop pretending that there's nothing wrong."

Blaine stopped walking and turned to look at Kurt, his face growing from slightly nervous to extremely nervous. Kurt braced himself for Blaine to say something along the lines of "I think we should break up." That much he was prepared for. What Blaine actually said, however, was much worse and more painful to hear than he had been expecting.

"I was with someone," Blaine blurted out, looking Kurt in the eye at last.

Kurt very nearly forgot he was outdoors, because it suddenly felt like he was in an airtight room with no oxygen. Surely he had misheard. Blaine hadn't _really_ just said that, had he?

Unfortunately, the look on Blaine's face confirmed that yes, he had. A million thoughts rushed through Kurt's mind in a matter of seconds as he processed the news.

_He was with someone. He was WITH someone. HE WAS WITH SOMEONE. What the hell does he mean, he was "with someone?" Why? Why would he do that to me? He begged me to stay with him and not abandon him, and then he...he...someone else...I...and after I gave up so much for him...my virginity...Carson...CARSON..._

"It was Sebastian, wasn't it?" were the first words out of his mouth once he had gathered up the necessary brain cells to even speak at all.

"No," said Blaine tearfully. "It wasn't Sebastian, but it...it didn't mean anything. It was just a hookup, ok?"

_Didn't MEAN anything? Just a hookup? Is that supposed to make me feel better about this, Blaine? Because it's not. In fact, it's making me feel worse that you did this for nothing. I've only been gone a few weeks, how the hell does this happen?_

_Didn't you love me enough to resist?_

"Then who was it?" Kurt demanded, tears spilling down his face as he stared at Blaine in disbelief.

"It doesn't matter who it was with, Kurt," replied Blaine, shaking his head. "What matters is that I was by myself. I needed you. I needed you around and you weren't there!"

_Because you TOLD me to come here, Blaine! I was going to go to Chicago, and we could have been seeing each other on weekends, but you told me to go to New York...I was going to go to Chicago...Chicago...Carson...all this time, it could have been Carson...I was such an idiot..._

"I was lonely," Blaine continued through his tears. "I'm really sorry."

"And you don't think that _I've_ been lonely?" Kurt snapped as he choked back sobs, knowing full well in his heart that he wasn't talking about him and Blaine. "You don't think that _I've_ had temptations? But I..I didn't act on it, because I knew what it meant! It meant something horrible and awful, and..." he trailed off as his tears overtook him. He thought about how much he had given up for Blaine's sake, feeling that he was doing the right thing by staying with him, even though his heart was screaming Carson's name so loudly it was keeping him up at night. And even worse, he thought about that beautiful speech Carson had given him when he thought Kurt couldn't hear. How he had wanted to turn right around and say "_Yes, yes, Carson, I love you too, baby, I love you so much_." How he had resisted because in the back of his mind was a constant stream of "_But what about Blaine_?" How he had been breaking Carson's heart this whole time. That was the worst thing of all. Kurt felt like the world's biggest fool, and it hurt.

"I'm really sorry, Kurt," Blaine repeated. "I really am." Kurt could only sob in reply as he felt his life crashing down around him.

_Sorry isn't going to fix this. NOTHING is going to fix this._

* * *

It was a very long, awkward, and miserable night for Kurt following Blaine's confession. Despite the fact that he barely even wanted to look at him, he had allowed Blaine to spend the night in the apartment. In Kurt's bed, no less. He may have been angry and devastated, but he couldn't quite bring himself to make Blaine get a hotel room and spend the night alone in a strange city. From what he could gather, Finn and Rachel hadn't had the best night of their relationship, either.

He had spent a significant portion of the night laying awake, staring at the ceiling while Blaine slept and trying to figure out why the hell his boyfriend would do this to him. Not three months ago, he had been crying and begging Kurt not to break up with him. "You're the love of my life," he'd said. "You can't abandon me," he'd said. "I'd die before I let anyone else have you," he'd fucking said. And Kurt had fallen for it. Like a complete moron, he'd fallen for it. He had ignored the way Blaine had been treating him. He had put aside his overwhelming desire to be with Carson, and he had stayed with Blaine.

And yet, it seemed, Blaine himself had been unable to last a couple of weeks without Kurt around before sleeping with somebody else. Why? Why would he have done that? Kurt had respected him enough to resist cheating, even though he'd certainly been tempted and had more than a few close calls. But he'd never done it. Not really. Had he really meant so little to Blaine all this time that the other boy would sleep with another guy at the first opportunity?

_I guess so_, Kurt thought sadly as he remembered the fact that Blaine had been communicating with Sebastian behind his back for god knew how long. _I guess he never really did love me enough._ He eventually fell asleep, feeling foolish and used.

Blaine must have snuck out early to catch a flight back to Lima, because he was gone when Kurt woke up. The only evidence that he had ever been there at all was the bouquet of red roses sitting on Kurt's dresser, like a colorful, stark reminder that'd been betrayed. He slowly got up out of bed, glaring at the flowers as he took the whole bunch into his hand and threw them, vase and all, as hard as he could against the wall. They hit the concrete with a shattering of glass, spilling water and crushed roses all over the bedroom floor. Kurt didn't even care. He slumped to the floor, leaning against the dresser as he pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. He wanted to cry, but he wasn't quite able to come up with the strength to even do that. More than anything, he really wanted Carson right now. He wanted to look into his eyes and apologize from the bottom of his soul for being such an idiot and breaking his heart. He wanted to be wrapped up in Carson's arms and feel unconditionally loved as his twin hugged him close and told him everything was going to be ok. But Carson wasn't here. Carson was very, very far away and Kurt was alone. And he deserved to be alone.

He didn't know how long he sat there hating himself. He didn't really care, since he didn't have to go to work. He heard Rachel moving around the apartment for a while before shutting herself up into her own section of bedroom, pulling her privacy curtain closed and flopping down onto her bed with a squeaking of mattress springs. He assumed Finn had also skipped town, then.

_Carson_, he thought miserably as he banged his head against the dresser. _Carsey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have just...I...it should have been you. It always should have been you._

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He crawled over to the nightstand and picked it up, his heart hammering in his chest as Carson's face filled the screen. _Oh god...ok...try to play it cool, Kurt. You can't let him know what's happening, or that you're suffering. It will only worry him, and you've done enough damage to him already to last several lifetimes, so just...just be cool._

"Hello?" he said as he answered the call, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice and sound like nothing was wrong.

"Hey, Kurtsie. I haven't heard from you all day, and I'm on my break at work, so I thought I'd try to call. Is this a good time? Are you busy?"

So much for playing it cool. The sound of Carson's voice, so warm and welcoming and indicative of love and home, pierced straight through Kurt's heart, and he felt his resolve to stay strong crumbling like a pile of bricks.

"It's...I'm not busy," he replied in a croaky voice, squeezing his eyes shut and ordering himself not to start crying. The brief silence on the other end of the line told him that Carson had picked up on the fact that something was wrong.

"Kurtsie?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Are you ok? Is everything alright?"

And there went the last of Kurt's willpower. He wasn't able to hold back his emotions anymore, and he felt the tears start trickling out of his eyes as he sniffed and shook his head, forgetting that he was on the phone and Carson wasn't able to see him.

"Kurt? Are...are you _crying_?" asked Carson, alarmed. "Kurt? Kurtsie?"

Kurt took a deep, shuddering breath and shook his head again as he started to cry harder. "No...I mean, yes, I...I'm not ok, Carsey."

"Oh god, Kurt, what's wrong?" asked Carson, panic in his voice now. "Are you ok? Are you hurt? Oh fuck, did you...did someone hurt you? Talk to me, Kurt."

Kurt sniffed and gripped the phone tight in his hand. "No, it's not that, I just...I...it's B-blaine. He was here last...last night."

"Oh my _god_, what the fuck was he doing there?" exclaimed Carson. "I swear to fuck if he laid one hand on you, I will go home right the hell now and kick his ass, because I am so fed up with this bullshit."

"No, Carson, he didn't, he just...he...he..." Kurt stammered, worried about Carson's reaction now that he was so close to telling him. He didn't want Carson wasting his time worrying about him. It wouldn't be fair to him. But he also really wanted someone to comfort him right now.

"Kurt, please. You're scaring me now," pleaded Carson. "Please, baby. Talk to me, ok? What did Benson do to you?"

"He cheated on me," Kurt said in an almost-whisper, breathing a sigh of relief as the words left his mouth, even though they stung and made this all the more real.

"What?" asked Carson. "I couldn't hear you, baby."

"He cheated on me," Kurt repeated, louder this time. "He came here to tell me that he cheated on me."

There was a nasty silence on Carson's end of the line for several beats before his twin spoke again. "I'm going to fucking kill him. Is he still there?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"No," replied Kurt with a sniff.

"Who the fuck...who was it? Who the hell was he fucking at the first opportunity? I swear to fuck, if it was Sebastian..."

"He said it wasn't him," said Kurt in a small, shaky voice, starting to regret telling Carson now. It was only going to make his twin angry. "I don't know who it was, I just...I don't want to think about it. I just...I can't...I can't handle this, Carsey. I..." He felt himself start to sob, and he desperately tried to keep himself under control. He didn't need Carson to hear just how badly shaken he was.

"Of course not, sweetheart," said Carson in a softer voice. "Of course. Where are you? Are you home?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes."

"I'm coming over."

Kurt blinked in surprise. "Carson, what...you're in Chicago...no, don't do that. You don't...no."

"Kurt, I don't want to hear it. I'm coming over. I'll be on the first available flight. I can be there by tonight," said Carson determinedly.

"Carson, please don't. You can't afford that," Kurt protested. "I'll be fine. Really."

"Kurt, I have to. I love you, and you're hurting. And it hurts _me_ to not be there to comfort you. I can afford the flight, baby, ok? You don't think I've been saving money since junior year just to be able to come visit you whenever I want?" asked Carson. "You need me. I'm coming over."

Kurt sighed, not wanting to admit just what a relief it was to know that he would soon be able to hug Carson close. He missed him so much. "Ok," he replied. He knew it was useless to argue any more with him, anyway.

"Just hold on, Kurtsie. I'll be there soon."

They ended the call, and Kurt climbed onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow adorned with Carson's hoodie and sighing, not even bothering to clean up the smashed vase from the bedroom floor. He felt bad for dumping his problems off on Carson like this, but he couldn't help but feel a little relieved that his twin was on his way. That he would make everything better just by virtue of being there. Being there would be more than enough.

_Just hang on for a little while, Kurt. Home is coming to you._

* * *

Carson had wasted absolutely no time after he hung up with Kurt. He felt like he was on autopilot. The idea of dropping everything and rushing to New York to be with Kurt didn't feel at all strange or rash. It was just what he felt he needed to do. Kurt was his twin, the love of his life, and his soulmate, even if Carson was the only one who felt that way. And he was hurting. He needed Carson, and Carson needed to be there for him. He wished he could say he was surprised that it had finally come to Blaine cheating, but honestly, he really wasn't. He'd always strongly suspected that Blaine was exactly the type of person who would come down with a raging case of Wandering Dick the second Kurt's back was turned, what with his previous dabbling into illicit instant messaging with Sebastian. Carson just hadn't thought it would only take two fucking weeks for it to happen.

_Lot of fucking respect you have for your boyfriend, there, Benji_, he thought angrily as he shoved his phone into his pocket and clocked out. _Kurt's been nothing but sweet and wonderful and loyal to your ungrateful ass, and you repay him by going out and fucking somebody else almost literally the second he isn't there? Fuck you, you asshole._

He marched out into the main area of the store, giving an apologetic glance to Gloria as he passed her.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Your shift isn't over for four more hours!"

"Family emergency," replied Carson. "I'm sorry."

"But-" she protested, but he was already halfway out the door.

"I'm sorry," he repeated before he practically started running down the street toward his apartment building. He knew this would probably cost him his job, but he didn't really care at the moment. Not when Kurt needed him. He could get another job later.

He quickly packed a bag full of some basic clothes and necessities, gathering up his wallet and making sure everything in the apartment was turned off before he hurried out and locked the door behind him, not bothering to address Mrs. Moore's shout of "Hey, hot stuff!" as he flew past her. _Seriously, how the fuck does she always know when I'm leaving the apartment? It's creepy as hell._ He caught the first cab he saw, and two hours later he was boarding a plane to New York.

_Hold on, Kurtsie. I'm coming, baby. I never should have left you at all. _

It wasn't a very long flight at all, but it felt like it took forever because Carson was in such a hurry to just land already and be on his way to Kurt. He wished there was some magical way of just beaming himself there as fast as possible. Right after he beamed himself to Lima and beat the everloving fuck out of Blaine. He wouldn't show that boy any mercy now. None. He was done playing nice. Nobody broke his baby brother's heart and got away with it, least of all him.

_The next time I see you, Bonham, you are going to be meeting the business end of my fist. On your dick, and then everywhere else. I'm so fucking finished with you, you have no idea._

At long last, his plane finally landed and he was navigating his way to Kurt and Rachel's apartment, more than a little bit horrified at the Bushwick neighborhood he finally located the building in. It was definitely a rough area, and his heart skipped several beats at the realization that Kurt walked those streets several times a day by himself, and at least one of those times was in the dark. He tried not to think about all the horrible, awful, and potentially fatal things that could have happened to Kurt by now as he entered the building and made his way up to Kurt's place. There wasn't an actual door to knock on, but he knocked anyway.

"Kurt?" he called as he knocked. "Kurtsie?"

"Carson?" he heard Kurt's voice say from behind the door, and Carson's whole body flooded with emotion at the sound. Only that weird wall door thing separated him from Kurt, and he needed to see him as soon as possible.

"Yes, baby. It's me." He heard footsteps and then the wall rattled as the door opened and there stood Kurt, looking like...well, like he'd had a rough night and day. He didn't really have time to assess Kurt's appearance much beyond that, though, because Kurt launched himself at him right then, and Carson was suddenly holding a shaking, sobbing mess of a person in his arms.

"Kurt...Kurtsie...shhh, it's ok," he soothed, dropping his bag and rubbing gently at Kurt's back as Kurt buried his face in his shoulder and just let go with a flood of tears. "I'm here, honey. I've got you. I've got you now, ok?"

"I...I...I missed you so...so much," Kurt sobbed, holding onto Carson as though he were on a sinking ship and Carson was a life preserver. "I..."

"I'm here, baby. I'm here," Carson whispered, stroking at Kurt's hair with one hand as he always had done. "I'm here now." He felt awful as he stood there in the doorway holding his hysterical twin and hating himself for ever leaving him in the first place. Why hadn't he applied to a college in New York? What was so fucking great about Northwestern, anyway? Just because that was what he had chosen as a kid didn't mean that he necessarily had to follow through with it now. He hated being apart from Kurt, and clearly Kurt wasn't having an easy time of it, either.

"Here, Kurtsie, why don't we go inside?" he asked gently, prodding Kurt inside the apartment, where Rachel was emerging from behind a curtain with a duffel bag in her hand. Carson caught a glimpse of a purple and pink bed and a vanity table behind her, and figured that must be her "bedroom."

"Carson," she acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"Trollberry," he replied out of habit, even though he had no reason as of yet to be annoyed with her.

"I, um...I knew you were coming, so.." she said, nodding down to the bag in her hand. "Kurt, I'm going to Brody's place for a couple of days, ok? To let you two have your visit."

Kurt nodded into Carson's shoulder, and Rachel gave him a quick pat on the back before pushing her way past Carson and exiting the apartment, sliding the door closed behind her.

"You didn't have to come," Kurt mumbled into Carson's hoodie, and Carson held him just a little bit tighter, inhaling the familiar scent of his hair and his lotions and instantly feeling at home. "I would have been fine."

"Are you kidding? Kurt, do you have any idea what it does to me when you're in pain?" asked Carson. "It actually physically pains me, Kurtsie. And just the thought of being all the way in fucking Chicago while you're here suffering was just unthinkable to me. I had to be here for you."

Kurt sniffed and clutched his hands into the fabric of Carson's hoodie. "I don't deserve you."

"Shhh," said Carson, leading him over to what he supposed was their couch and gently setting him down as he sat beside him. "It's ok now. You're ok. Brandon, on the other hand, is _not_ going to be ok once I get my hands on him. I'm so fucking finished, you have no idea."

Kurt sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, which just went to show how distraught he was, because he _never_ used his own clothes as tissues if he could possibly help it. "Can...can we not talk about Blaine?" he asked in a small voice. "I...I'd just rather focus on the fact that you're here."

Carson nodded, his stomach in knots at the sad look on his twin's face. "Of course, Kurtsie. Of course. We don't have to talk about the hobbit. It's ok." He reached out and ruffled Kurt's hair gently, and Kurt smiled ever so slightly before leaning his head on Carson's shoulder and sighing.

"I know you just got here, but can...can you just hold me for a while?" he asked. "It's been so long, and I miss it."

"Like you even have to ask," Carson replied, settling himself comfortably and allowing Kurt to rest his head on his lap, his twin's arms wrapped tightly around his waist as though Carson were his lifeline. "We can stay here like this as long as you want. Ok?"

Kurt nodded and let out a shaky sigh, closing his eyes and burying his face in Carson's stomach. Carson sighed himself and closed his own eyes, allowing himself to bask in the feeling of holding Kurt like this after so long. It had only been a little less than a month, but it felt like they had been separated for years, and it felt so good to be close to Kurt again. Even if it _was_ under some pretty shitty circumstances.

Kurt's shaky breaths eventually settled down into deep, even ones after some time, and Carson glanced down at his lap to see that he had fallen fast asleep, his chest rising and falling peacefully. He looked like an angel, but an extremely sad angel who had been crying and had clearly gotten little to no sleep in the past twenty-four hours. Carson noticed for the first time that Kurt was in black sweats, and by the looks of it, had been wearing them all day, possibly from the night before. That wasn't like him at all. Even if he was hanging around the house for the day, Kurt usually at least put an outfit together. Carson supposed he'd been too depressed over Blaine to bother, and he felt a surge of righteous anger directed toward Blaine like he'd never even felt before.

_Who the fuck cheats on such an angel?_ he wondered to himself as he gently stroked Kurt's hair and gazed at his sleeping, tear-stained face. _What kind of an ungrateful fuck has a beautiful, precious gem like Kurt and just tosses him aside for some cheap ass? While others would happily die for even one day of being chosen by Kurt. It's not fair. It's just not fucking fair._

He kissed the tip of his finger and placed the finger to Kurt's nose, sighing as he leaned back against the couch cushions and started to fall asleep.

_I'm here, Kurtsie. He'll never hurt you again. I won't let him._

* * *

Kurt woke up hours later to find himself laying alone across the couch, a blanket carefully tucked around him and a pillow placed under his head. His face felt significantly less sticky and gross than it had since Blaine had left, and he realized that someone must have washed his face while he was sleeping. He yawned and sat up, stretching his arms and wincing at the stiffness. That couch was far from comfortable.

"Carsey?" he called, looking around the apartment for his twin. He almost didn't notice him until Carson answered "Over here, Kurtsie!" and Kurt's eyes settled on him in the kitchen area, stirring something in a pot on the stove. It smelled a lot like soup.

"Minestrone soup," said Carson, as though reading Kurt's mind. "It's from a mix, but it's food. You need to eat something."

"I'm not really hungry," murmured Kurt, rubbing his eyes. He still felt exhausted, like he hadn't slept at all.

"Yes, you are," answered Carson. "Your stomach has been growling all night. It woke me up, actually. When was the last time you ate anything?"

Kurt thought about it and realized that he actually hadn't eaten anything since the afternoon before the piano bar. He hadn't had the desire or the energy to make anything. "I don't know," he lied. "Yesterday?"

Carson's eyes widened in horror. "You haven't eaten since _when_? Yeah, you need to eat." He searched around until he found a clean bowl and started spooning soup into it with a ladle.

"I'm really not hungry," Kurt insisted. Actually, that wasn't true. He was starving, but he just didn't feel like he had the energy to eat.

"Just eat a little bit, Kurtsie? Please?" asked Carson, carrying the bowl and a spoon over to the couch and sitting down beside Kurt. "I refuse to let you starve yourself over that asshole." He held the bowl out to Kurt like an offering and gave him an attempt at a pout, which made Kurt smile a little in spite of himself.

"That only works when I do it," he said, taking the bowl from him and spooning a little bit of it into his mouth. It tasted like heaven after not eating anything for so long.

"Good?" asked Carson with a smile. Kurt nodded.

"Delicious," he replied, reaching out and patting Carson's hand gently before starting to eat in earnest. Carson looked pleased and ruffled his hair before going back to the kitchen, placing the rest of the soup into Tupperware and leaving it out to cool.

"Carson?" Kurt said as Carson headed back to the couch to sit beside him.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you're here," Kurt said, giving him a small smile. Carson took his empty bowl and set it down on the makeshift coffee table that sat in front of the couch.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be, Kurtsie," he said, holding his arms out in invitation. Kurt entered them eagerly, resting his head on Carson's chest and letting out a deep breath.

"What should we do now?" asked Carson, stroking Kurt's hair thoughtfully. "Watch a movie?"

Kurt shrugged. "If you want to. Can...can we watch _The Notebook_?"

Carson looked at him carefully. "Are you sure you want to watch that? I mean...considering..."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. It's like comfort food. It will make me feel better."

"Ok," agreed Carson. "I'll clean up and set the movie up if you want to go take a shower."

"That would be awesome," Kurt said gratefully. "Actually, we can watch it in my room on my laptop. I think the bed will be a lot more comfortable."

"Couldn't agree more, Kurtsie," said Carson. "You run along now. I'll still be here when you're done."

_God, I really don't deserve him,_ thought Kurt as he headed for the bathroom. _I really, really don't._

* * *

As it turned out, _The Notebook_ became something of a nightly (and daily) ritual for them. Kurt called in sick to _Vogue_ for several days . Not only did he just not feel like going, he was almost afraid to leave Carson. He knew it was stupid, but he felt like if he left, that it would turn out that Carson was never really there and it was only a dream. As long as he stayed in the apartment, Carson was real and there. By the time Carson had been there for three days, they had watched the movie around fifteen times, give or take a few. Kurt couldn't help it. He was a man obsessed. He couldn't stop thinking about something he had said to Blaine shortly before graduation about how he pictured the end of his life like the ending to _The Notebook_, only with the love of his life there with him in his version. Blaine had probably assumed Kurt was talking about him. He hadn't been. He'd been thinking strictly of Carson when he'd said that.

And with every viewing of that movie, Kurt was hit more and more with the stunning realization that, if he so chose, he could tell Carson how he felt. There was nothing stopping him now. Blaine was a thing of the past. It still hurt, kind of, but not just because he'd been cheated on. It hurt because even if Kurt told Carson his true feelings, he wasn't sure now if Carson would have him. For all Kurt knew, Carson had begun to move on and heal while he was in Chicago. Maybe even started to make peace with the fact that he and Kurt wouldn't be together. If Kurt spoke up now, then what? Carson would be well within his rights to reject him, and Kurt wouldn't blame him one bit.

So he sat and he watched _The Notebook_ like it was his job, and he continued to say nothing and feel miserable inside. And Carson happily watched with him, even though Kurt knew it wasn't his type of movie at all, and even though he had to have been getting sick of it by now. He never complained. He just lay with Kurt in bed, holding him close and stroking his hair while they watched it for the millionth time.

They were doing exactly this on the night before Kurt was due to return to _Vogue_, and Kurt was feeling more than a little emotional. He was actually feeling a little pissed at the movie for perpetuating the notion that lifelong love existed. Real life wasn't nearly so easy. Real life was complicated and shitty, and real relationships never turned out like that. Never. Kurt felt stupid for ever even believing that something like the love depicted in the movie could ever be his.

_Fuck this movie_, he thought, and slammed his laptop shut, making Carson jump a little in surprise.

"Kurtsie? You ok?" he asked, concern in his voice. Kurt shook his head.

"I just...no. No, that movie is lies. It's all lies. Fucking lies. Romance isn't like that. Not in real life. How can they get away with making it so perfect in movies? Apparently in real life you can never be with the one you...the one you really love..." Kurt babbled, feeling tears springing to his eyes as he spoke. "I just...I..."

"Kurt," Carson said softly, pulling him into an embrace and rubbing his back. "It's going to be ok, baby. You won't always feel like this. I promise."

Kurt sniffed and rested his head on Carson's shoulder. "I...I really kind of thought you'd be happy about this," he said.

"Happy about what?" asked Carson, confused.

"About me and Blaine breaking up," Kurt answered with a shaky sigh. "I mean, you always hated him, and...I mean...I guess I thought you'd be jumping for joy over this."

"Why would I be happy?" asked Carson, pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. "You're in pain. How could I ever be happy about that? Yeah, I hated Baxter. I still hate him. I think he's a giant fucking asshole, and there's nothing I would have ever wanted more than for you two to break up. But...not like _this_. Not in a way that causes you so much pain. I'd never want that."

"Really?" asked Kurt, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"What do you mean, _really_? Of course not," said Carson softly, wiping away some of Kurt's tears gently with his thumb. "And you'll get your _Notebook_ romance. I promise. There's someone out there who will give that to you, ok? I guarantee it. You'll just have to look for him, but you'll find him. I know it."

Kurt looked into Carson's eyes, so genuine and full of love and concern for him, for _his _happiness, and in that moment, something inside him snapped. He was done tip-toeing around his feelings. He couldn't do it anymore. Why was he holding back? What, really, did he have to lose? The worst Carson could say was no. And Kurt really didn't want to look back on his life as an old man and regret never confessing his feelings for fear of what anyone would say. If he wanted happiness, he was going to have to reach out and take it. Or, at least attempt to. He may get rejected, but he had to try. And as he was thinking all of these things, he found his face growing closer and closer to Carson's, and before he could really register what was happening, he felt his lips colliding with his twin's lips.

There it was. An actual, honest kiss that he'd been waiting for his whole life, it seemed. He kissed Carson earnestly, pressing their lips together gently but firmly, as stars danced behind his eyes and his stomach swooped. This was what being in love felt like, for sure.

"Mmph," Carson mumbled against his lips. He pulled away slightly, panting and out of breath. "K-kurt...what...what are you doing?" he asked in shock, running his tongue across his bottom lip as if to taste the evidence of what had just happened.

"Oh god...I...I'm so sorry," Kurt babbled frantically, blushing and feeling embarrassed and foolish. "I...oh god...of course you don't...anymore...of course...I understand, I just...I wanted..."

"Kurt...Kurt, baby...c-calm down," Carson said, placing his hands on Kurt's shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "You...um...you just kissed me."

Kurt nodded. "I know."

Carson's eyes looked just a little hopeful, but still full of surprise and awe as they stared into Kurt's. "Why?"

Kurt bit his lip and began playing with the nail on his thumb. "I...Carson, I have to tell you something, ok?" he said nervously, his heart thumping in his chest.

"What is it, Kurtsie?" asked Carson quietly.

"I, um...oh, Carson, I heard you," Kurt blurted out in a rush, wanting to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible.

"Heard me?"

"Yeah...the night before you left for Chicago and you...you thought I was asleep. And I just...oh god, Carson, I was so scared to say anything, but I wanted to. You have no idea how much I wanted to. I wanted to turn around right after I squeezed your hand and kiss you and tell you...tell you..."

"Tell me what?" asked Carson breathlessly. His mouth was hanging open slightly and his eyes were widening more every second as he waited for Kurt's reply.

"That...that I love you," said Kurt, almost in a whisper. "That I've always loved you. That I'd been so stupid to be with anyone else when it always should have been you. And I feel like a huge asshole, because I knew how you felt about me and I ignored it for so long, hoping it would fade for both of us, because god, what would people _say_? And...and.."

He got no further, for Carson surged forward and put his lips back on Kurt's, and _oh_...so _that_ was what it felt like to be kissed passionately by someone who really loved you. It felt a lot like floating on a cloud. Kurt returned the kiss with fervor, bringing up one hand to trail lightly against Carson's cheek as their lips moved slowly against each other.

"Wait," Carson mumbled, pulling away and pinching himself hard on the arm. "Ow," he said in awe.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Kurt breathlessly, frustrated at the loss of those lips on his.

"Just checking," replied Carson. "You know, making sure neither of us are drunk, or asleep, or..."

"Yeah, I'm really going to need you to stop talking, because your lips tasted awesome and I really want them kissing me right now," said Kurt with a pout.

"Oh fuck, not the p-" began Carson, his words cut off as Kurt attacked his lips, sucking Carson's bottom lip in between his own and nibbling slightly, causing Carson to moan into his mouth. He felt Carson's hand slipping onto the back of his head, burying his fingers in his hair and tilting his head slightly, creating a much better angle for kissing. Kurt's senses were completely overtaken by Carson. He was everywhere, and Kurt's world was narrowed down to absolutely nothing except Carson, and Carson's lips, and the delicious sounds Carson was making as Kurt continued kissing him like he'd never get the chance again. It was pure bliss. He'd been wanting this forever, and he couldn't even believe it was happening right now.

"Oh...oh god..." Carson moaned as Kurt turned his attention to kissing along his jawline, nipping little bites into the skin every few inches as he slowly worked his way down to his neck. He began sucking earnestly at the sensitive skin just below Carson's ear, relishing the salty taste and scraping it slightly with his teeth, causing Carson to let out a loud moan.

"Kurt," he breathed as Kurt laved his tongue across the abused skin. "Kurt, Kurt, oh god..."

"Mmm," Kurt hummed in reply, sliding his hands down Carson's sides until they rested on his hips, slowly and gently pushing Carson down until he was laying on the bed against the pillows. Kurt settled himself slowly on top of him and nipped a little at his jaw again.

"You ok?" he asked in a whisper, and Carson eagerly nodded before Kurt crashed their lips together once more, pouring every bit of passion he had into it and feeling extremely frustrated because he just couldn't get close enough. He situated his hips against Carson's, and he could feel his twin's hardening dick pressing up against his own rapidly growing erection through their pajamas.

"_Oh," _he moaned at the amazing feeling, deepening the kiss a little and suddenly feeling Carson's tongue pressing up against his lips. Kurt opened his mouth eagerly, granting Carson access, and he could swear he was dying as he felt Carson's tongue licking against his. A pleasant, tingling sensation was building in his stomach as their erections slid together, and he shifted his hips just a little, working them in a grinding motion against Carson's.

"_Fuck_," moaned Carson, shivering and thrusting his hips up in response. "Oh shit, Kurt, oh god..." He started thrusting his hips more, meeting every downward grind of Kurt's, and the friction was unlike anything Kurt had ever felt. He'd never experienced anything like this. Never. He and Blaine had pretty much jumped right into sex without any of these stepping stones, and _god_, he really had been missing out, because this was heavenly.

A particularly hard thrust from Carson hit Kurt's dick at just the right angle, and he cried out as he felt Carson's hands, which had been running up and down his back, traveling lower and lower, resting just above the swell of his ass.

"K-kurt.." Carson moaned, his eyes rolling back a little as Kurt sucked at the place where his shoulder met his neck. "Kurt, can I...can I touch you...lower...I.."

Kurt nodded eagerly. "Yes! Carson, yes, baby, touch me wherever you..._ah_," he moaned as he felt Carson's hands rest on his ass and begin squeezing and kneading the flesh there. "God, yes, keep doing that," Kurt groaned as they continued rutting desperately against each other. Kurt was losing any sense of coordination or rhythm as he felt the pleasant, tingling heat in his stomach building to a crescendo.

"Kurt.." Carson moaned, his breath coming out in pants and gasps as Kurt licked along his jawline. "Kurt, I...I'm close, Kurt...I..." Kurt felt him tense up beneath him, and his face took on a look of absolute ecstasy as he came, his mouth forming a perfect O shape. His dick twitched in his pants, and Kurt could feel the heat against him, which caused him to reach his own climax with a very loud moan of Carson's name, his brain taken over by whiteness. It was the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his entire life, so good he was sure he was going to pass out. As it was, he felt like his heart was going to leap right out of his chest for how fast and hard it was pounding.

He just lay there on top of Carson for a minute, staring into his eyes as Carson stared into his, both of them trying to regain their breathing.

"I..." Kurt began, and gave up. He didn't have the energy or the brain function to form words at the moment.

"Kurt," Carson whispered, biting his lip and looking almost like he wanted to cry. He brought his hand up to cup Kurt's cheek gently, stroking it softly. "You're so beautiful, Kurtsie."

Kurt felt a swell of love in his heart he'd never felt before, so intense he wanted to rip his own heart out. "Carsey," he said, rolling off of him and settling his head on Carson's chest, running one hand up and down the length of his twin's arm. "I...that was...I..."

"I love you," whispered Carson.

Kurt's eyes filled with unshed tears as he smiled at him. "I love you too, Carsey," he replied, pressing their lips together gently in a sweet, slow kiss. He couldn't believe they had just done what they'd done. It felt so surreal.

"I don't know what to say," Carson said softly as he used the hand that was cupping Kurt's cheek to wipe away a stray tear. "I just...did that just happen? I..."

"Shhh," said Kurt, cupping Carson's cheek in his own hand and looking him intently in the eye. "Let's not talk right now, ok? Let's just...I just want to _be_. Just be with you."

Carson bit his lip and nodded. "Ok. Ok, Kurtsie."

Kurt eventually forced himself out of bed to get a damp washcloth and some spare clothes, but aside from a brief cleaning up (which Carson insisted on doing for Kurt), they were back in each other's arms in no time, holding each other tight as they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Carson awoke several hours later to moonlight streaming through the windows and Kurt in his arms, the memories of what had happened earlier flooding back into his brain like a tidal wave. He was still in complete shock that it had happened at all, and had pinched himself several more times when Kurt wasn't looking. It had hurt every single time. So he supposed he really had just listened to Kurt confess to him that he felt the same way as Carson did. He wished he could wrap his brain around it. It still felt like a dream, even though he was sure it wasn't. Any second now he was sure he would wake up and discover that none of this had ever happened and he had really just drifted off during his work break or something.

The sound of gasping and hiccuping alerted him to the fact that Kurt wasn't asleep, either. He was sobbing quietly in Carson's arms, clearly trying to keep quiet so as not to disturb him.

"Kurt?" he asked quietly, starting to worry. _Shit_, he thought. _I knew we shouldn't have done anything. God, he's obviously still sick over Bamboo, and there I went letting him do all that we did. Fuck, what's wrong with me? _"Kurtsie? What's wrong, baby? Why are you crying?"

Kurt heaved a huge breath and let it out slowly as he cuddled closer to Carson. "Because I don't deserve you," he managed to get out through his tears. "I...I don't even know why you would even still want me after...after all that I put you through.."

Carson was slightly taken aback at the revelation that Kurt wasn't crying over Blaine, but quickly got over it as the realization of what he _was _saying sunk in. Didn't deserve Carson? Was he nuts? If anything, it was the other way around. Didn't Kurt realize what a treasure he was? He pulled Kurt closer and kissed the top of his head affectionately.

"Kurtsie, no. Stop thinking that right now. I'm not going to lie, it's really hurt me all this time not being able to be with you the way I really wanted. But I have always and _will_ always love you, and nothing will ever change that. Don't you think for a second that I don't, ok? If anything, it's me who doesn't deserve you," he said, finishing his speech with a small kiss to Kurt's forehead, not quite brave enough to go for the lips, even after all they had done earlier.

"Really?" asked Kurt, as if he genuinely couldn't believe it, and Carson's heart ached for him.

"Here," he said, gently taking Kurt's hand and placing it on his own chest. "Do you feel that? My heartbeat?" Kurt nodded. "It's for you, Kurtsie. It's...it's always been for you."

Kurt looked at him carefully for a moment, his eyes searching for something in Carson's. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, because he leaned his face into Carson's, his hand still on his chest, and pressed their lips together in another kiss. Much like all the others they had shared that evening, this one made Carson tingle from head to toe and his heart start to thud faster and harder against his chest.

"Wow," said Kurt, pressing his hand against Carson's chest. "I can feel it. What...what the kiss did to you."

"Of course you can," said Carson, hugging him tightly to him. "As long as it's beating, it's doing it for you. Remember that."

Kurt kissed him one more time before snuggling back up against Carson, his head on his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too, Kurtsie."


	23. Chapter 23

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! This chapter is a little later than planned because real life decided to be a bitch this week, but here we are. This chapter is...um...well...let's just call this the fluff and smut chapter. Emphasis on the smut. And, as usual, we love our readers more than Kurt loves musicals.**

**Let's read!**

Carson slowly opened his eyes as the early morning sun streamed through Kurt's window, consciousness overtaking the sleepy fog he had been in. It took him a minute to remember where he was, but then the previous night's events rushed through his brain in a blinding flash as he gazed down at the peacefully sleeping Kurt in his arms. Now that he was fully awake, he was also fully able to proceed freaking out. Kurt had told him he loved him last night. _That had actually happened._ He had told him, and then they had...made out? He wasn't sure that was _quite_ the word for what they had done, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it happened, and it had been so beautiful that Carson had almost started to cry afterwards, but had managed to hold himself together. After all, he had a rule about tears in front of Kurt. Even happy ones.

He smiled down at Kurt, who stirred in his arms and let out a small snuffle as he buried his face against Carson's chest. "Mmmph," he mumbled sleepily, his breath pleasantly hot through the thin fabric of Carson's shirt.

"Morning, angel" whispered Carson, planting a kiss to the top of Kurt's hair.

"What time is it?" asked Kurt with a yawn, his eyes still closed.

"A little past six," answered Carson after a quick glance at the clock on Kurt's nightstand.

"Mmmmph," Kurt groaned again, snuggling closer to Carson. "I don't wanna get up. Wanna stay here with you forever."

Carson smiled and reached a hand up to stroke gently at Kurt's cheek. "I wish you could, too."

"I could quit my job," Kurt murmured. "Quit and then I would have lots of free time to lay in bed here with you and hug you and smell you because you smell really good, damn." He inhaled deeply, as if to prove his point.

"Actually, I smell like sweat and morning breath," replied Carson. "But thanks for trying."

"You do not," said Kurt, sighing and finally exposing his face to the air. "I dunno what it is. But I like it." He looked up at Carson and shyly leaned up, catching his lips in a soft kiss. Carson closed his eyes out of instinct and savored the feeling of their lips touching, moving together as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Kurt broke from the kiss, and Carson opened his eyes to see Kurt's staring into his, sparkling in the early morning light.

"Kurt?" asked Carson, wanting to voice the thought that had been nagging at the back of his mind ever since Kurt had first kissed him the night before. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Hmm?" replied Kurt, tracing the fingers of one hand lazily across Carson's chest. It felt so nice.

"Um...we...I mean...last night, we..." Carson stammered, not quite knowing how to phrase his question.

"Last night was beautiful," Kurt said with a smile. Carson returned it in kind and took a deep breath.

"I guess what I'm asking, Kurt, is...I mean...what...what does this make us now?" asked Carson, relieved to finally have the words out and the question on the table.

"What do you mean?" asked Kurt.

"I mean...what...what are we now? To each other?"

Kurt looked thoughtful for a minute before biting his lip and meeting Carson's eye. "Well...I know it's only been about ten hours, but...do you think it's too early to call ourselves, um...boyfriends?" That last word left Kurt's mouth in a whisper, like a secret, as though he was scared to say it but was taking a chance anyway. Carson's entire body started tingling as his mind raced.

_Boyfriends? Did he just...did he say boyfriends? He wants...he wants to call me his...his...oh god..._

He had. He'd said the word "boyfriends." Last night had meant something to him, then. Carson knew how much of a romantic Kurt was, and that he wouldn't throw that word around for nothing, not unless he really believed it. The very thought that Kurt actually _wanted_ him made Carson almost unable to breathe as he stared at Kurt in amazement.

"Carsey?" asked Kurt.

Carson mentally shook himself and smiled at him. "I...Kurt, of course not. It's not too early at all." He felt his smile turning into an ear-to-ear grin as Kurt's eyes lit up in delight.

"Really?" he asked.

"Of course! God, Kurt, you know how I feel. I just...I never allowed myself to believe you felt the same way," said Carson in a choked up voice. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking cry..._

"Boyfriends," said Kurt carefully, as though he were testing the word out. "We're...we're boyfriends. You're my boyfriend."

Carson felt his heart melting into a puddle of goo as he brushed a stray hair off of Kurt's forehead and nodded. "I'm your boyfriend," he agreed. Kurt kissed him again, cupping Carson's cheek with one hand, and Carson didn't think he'd ever get over the exploding fireworks feeling that took over his stomach whenever their lips touched.

"I really don't want to get up," Kurt groaned into Carson's mouth.

"Then don't," mumbled Carson.

"Have to," Kurt said with a sigh, pulling away from the kiss. "I've already missed so many days. I don't want to start being late too and have Isabelle be pissed at me after only a couple of weeks." He threw the covers off his side of the bed and slowly got up, stretching his arms out as he did so and causing his tight sleep T-shirt to tighten across his chest. Not that Carson was staring or anything.

Ok, he totally was.

"Ok," said Kurt as he got out of bed and brushed a hand absentmindedly through his own hair. "I'm going to shower and get ready, and then I'm going to kiss your face for a little bit more before I have to leave."

"Sounds good to me," said Carson with a smile as Kurt padded across the room. His smile faded and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched Kurt pulling at the hem of his own shirt and lifting it up and off, tossing it into the clothes hamper. Carson was taken aback by just how much more muscular and toned Kurt had become, even compared to a few months ago, and he ducked his head down out of habit so as not to be caught staring.

"No," said Kurt. "No, Carson. You...you can look. It's ok."

Carson lifted his head slowly and allowed himself to take in the sight of Kurt shirtless. It may have sounded cliché, but Kurt looked like he'd been carved out of marble by the gods themselves.

_Well, fuck sounding like a cliché. I don't care. He's BEAUTIFUL. And...and now he's mine. I just can't._

"See anything you like?" asked Kurt cheekily, and Carson blushed.

"As a matter of fact," replied Carson, his eyes still glued to Kurt's body. "I do."

Kurt grinned and walked over to him, leaning down to kiss him with both hands cupping Carson's face. "Don't feel shy looking, Carsey. Ok? You can look as much as you want. You can even touch."

"Touch," Carson repeated, tentatively reaching a hand out and only hesitating a moment before working up his courage and gingerly stroking his fingers down Kurt's chest.

"Mmm," murmured Kurt appreciatively.

"God, Kurt," Carson breathed, pulling his hand back as though it were on fire. He couldn't handle all these feelings in such a short amount of time. "I love you so much."

Kurt kissed him one more time and stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Gonna go shower now, ok?" Carson nodded numbly and watched him walk out of the room toward the bathroom, his eyes glued to the smooth expanse of skin as he tried to force himself not to pop a boner.

_This is a dream. This HAS to be a dream. I fell and hit my head and hallucinated the past twenty-four hours, like Tina did that one time she fell in the fountain at the mall and then wouldn't shut up about how Kurt was now Finn and the other way around._ Carson gave himself a pinch on the arm to prove his point.

"Ow," he said out loud. It hurt. That was all it took for him to jump out of bed and start dancing and hugging himself like a fool.

_He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, he loves me, he loooves meeeee._ He was so happy he didn't know what to do with himself until he remembered that he was in an apartment. An apartment with a kitchen.

_Breakfast. I should go make breakfast for us_, he thought happily as he made his way into the kitchen area. It seemed to be a little low on actual food, and Carson made a mental note to go grocery shopping while Kurt was at work. He rooted around in the tiny refrigerator until he found some eggs, and located a box of oatmeal in the cupboard. By the time Kurt had showered and dressed and emerged from the bedroom, Carson had a glass of orange juice, a plate of scrambled eggs, and a bowl of oatmeal sitting on the table, with a bit of sugar sitting in a plastic cup with a spoon, just in case Kurt wanted to use it in the oatmeal.

"What's all this?" asked Kurt with a smile as he came into the kitchen.

"Breakfast," said Carson. "I don't want my...my _boyfriend_...to leave without food in him."

Kurt's smile grew bigger as he placed his hands on Carson's waist and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "I get the feeling I'm going to be a spoiled boyfriend."

"You may be correct," replied Carson, pulling out the chair from the table and making a gesture toward it. "Have a seat, baby."

Kurt nodded and sat, and Carson pushed his chair into place before sitting down himself across from him, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

"So, can I drive you to work?" he asked as Kurt began eating. "I have that rental car parked on the street. May as well put it to good use. And then you don't have to take that stupid subway."

Kurt shook his head. "I'd like that, Carsey, but traffic's going to be nuts. And you don't have a whole lot of experience driving in the city. I'd be late by the time we even got into it. Subway's faster."

"But it's full of weird people," protested Carson. "Weird, _dangerous_ people."

"Carson, I've been taking the subway every day since I got this internship," said Kurt through a mouthful of eggs. "And I'm still alive."

Carson frowned. "I'm just protective. And I worry."

Kurt smiled and reached across the table, patting his hand gently. "It'll be ok, Carsey. You worry too much."

"I'm gonna be there to meet you when you're done with work," said Carson determinedly. "I worry _more_ at night."

"Aaaw," said Kurt, rubbing his thumb over Carson's knuckles comfortingly. "How about you drive me to the subway station? Will that make you feel better?"

Carson smiled and nodded. "Ok. But we're going to get you some pepper spray soon."

* * *

Kurt's first day back at _Vogue_ was one of the longest days of his entire life. Not that he didn't absolutely love his job, but he was still kind of reeling from the events of the past day and still had yet to mentally process the fact that he had actually _finally_ confessed his feelings to Carson. And that Carson hadn't rejected him. When he thought about all the things Carson had witnessed between him and Blaine, he couldn't believe that his twin had just accepted so quickly. To think that he loved Kurt that much, to still want him even after all the hurt and probable heartbreak that Kurt had put him through, made Kurt want to just curl up in the corner and cry tears of happiness. He finally had Carson. He finally had what his heart wanted all along.

_See, Kurt? See what happens when you take the initiative and just go for it when you want something? Good things, Kurt. Good things happen._

Of course, the constant stream of text messages from Blaine he kept receiving were putting just a little bit of a damper on his good mood. Kurt had been getting them for days, ever since the day after Carson's arrival in New York, and he had ignored every single one. Most of them were along the lines of "_I'm sorry that you're upset, and I love you, so can't we just talk about this?" _Kurt had to give him points for persistence, but he had absolutely no intention of talking to Blaine for a very long time.

_You had your chance, Blaine. You had SO MANY chances, and I was a fool to ever even give you one. I'm done. You can apologize all you want, but I'm done. _

By the time the end of the work day rolled around, Kurt was more than ready to spend a nice, long evening with Carson and just forget that the entire world existed for a while. True to his word, his twin arrived at the _Vogue _office to meet him just as one of Kurt's co-workers, Chase, was delivering him a phone message.

"Who the hell was _that_?" asked Carson with narrowed eyes as Chase excused himself and left Kurt's office.

Kurt chuckled lightly at the obvious jealousy. "Oh, honey, that's just Chase. He's nobody. Just a co-worker."

"He's a co-worker who wants to be knocked up with your octuplets," said Carson, crossing his arms and glaring in Chase's direction. "He was practically undressing you with his eyes."

Kurt got up from his desk and took Carson's hand gently. "You're so cute when you're jealous," he whispered.

"Aw, man," said Carson with an exaggerated pout. "I was going for intimidating. Didn't it work?"

"Not really," said Kurt, stroking his hand. "You're a teddy bear."

"To _you_," said Carson. "To everyone else, I am a ferocious beast they don't want to fuck with."

"Did you have any trouble finding the place?" asked Kurt as they made their way out of the building, giving Isabelle a quick wave goodbye as they passed her office.

"Nope," answered Carson, sounding proud of himself. "The receptionist didn't even ask me who I was here to see. I think she probably thought I was you. Clearly she missed the T-shirt and jeans."

The subway ride back to their neighborhood was long but somewhat entertaining, as Carson spent the entire time with one arm placed protectively around Kurt's shoulder while he gave the stink eye to anyone who even glanced over in their direction.

"Not everyone is out to get us, you know," said Kurt as they got off the train and headed down the street to where Carson had parked his rental car.

"Maybe not, but I take no chances," said Carson as they got in and he started the engine. "You're precious to me, Kurtsie." Kurt felt a fluttering of butterfly wings in his stomach and looked around quickly to make sure there weren't any nosy onlookers before leaning across the seat and giving Carson a quick kiss on the lips.

"I missed you all day," he said quietly as their lips parted from one another. "Were you terribly bored?"

Carson shook his head vigorously. "Nope. Quite the opposite, actually. I was really productive," he said mysteriously.

"Oh?" said Kurt, intrigued. "May I ask how so?"

Carson grinned. "You'll see." Kurt was definitely intrigued now. They arrived at their building soon enough, and when Carson slid the door open and led Kurt inside, Kurt's heart thudded excitedly in his chest. He could immediately see exactly how his twin had spent his day while Kurt was away. He had obviously spent part of the day cleaning, because the apartment was a lot neater than it had been when Kurt left that morning (he hadn't had the energy to clean or neaten up much in the past few days ever since the Blaine fiasco). But best of all was what Kurt saw in the living room area. There was a light blue blanket spread across the floor, with a basket in the middle next to a bottle of wine from Kurt's stash, two glasses, and two plates. Scented candles in glass holders were lined up on either side of the blanket, unlit, and (this was the best part) there were flower petals scattered around the blanket.

"A picnic for us," said Carson nervously, leading Kurt by the hand over to the blanket. "I, um...I wanted to do something romantic and stuff because of...of last night...and this was what I thought of. I did a little grocery shopping, because you were out of, like, everything, and then I saw the candles at the store and, well...the idea just kind of formed from there. There's sandwiches and cake in the basket."

"Carsey," Kurt breathed, unable to form any words beyond that, because this was by far the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him, ever. "I...I don't know what to say...are those lilacs?" he asked, indicating the flower petals. Carson nodded.

"Yep," he said. "I know they're your favorite, so I thought maybe they'd add a little nice touch-" His words were cut off as Kurt attacked his lips, kissing him hard and deep and hoping like hell that Carson could feel how deeply moved and in love he was right now.

"So...the lilacs were a good idea?" Carson asked with a smile as Kurt broke from the kiss.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you right now?" asked Kurt. Carson's smile grew bigger.

"You like it?" he asked.

"I _love_ it," said Kurt, settling himself carefully down on the blanket as Carson sat across from him and opened the basket, taking out a book of matches and lighting the candles.

"They're lilac scented, too," he said proudly as he blew out his match. Kurt wanted to just jump him right there, but he somehow managed to restrain himself until they had eaten and were working on their third glass of wine each.

"Come here," he said quietly, reaching his arms out to Carson, who eagerly crawled over and accepted Kurt's waiting lips on his own. Kurt kissed him intently, moving his lips firmly but gently over Carson's before sucking on his bottom lip, reaching one hand behind Carson to rest in his twin's hair, his fingers stroking lightly. Carson let out a tiny whine and deepened the kiss, running his hands up and down Kurt's sides.

"Love you," Kurt whispered briefly before putting his lips back on Carson's and working them down to his jaw, covering every inch of skin he could get to with tiny kisses while Carson gasped.

"Kurt," he groaned as Kurt got bold and nipped a little bite right below his ear. He took his mouth off of Carson and lay back on the blanket among the lilac petals, careful to avoid knocking down the candles as he did so. He grabbed Carson's shirt by the neck and pulled him down on top of him, their lips meeting again in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss as everything suddenly became much more intense and heated.

"Mmm," Kurt moaned appreciatively as he gave another little bite at Carson's bottom lip, and he felt Carson shivering slightly on top of him. He pressed his tongue against Carson's lips, and Carson eagerly opened his mouth, allowing Kurt to slide their tongues together deliciously and whimpering as he held onto Kurt's arms for dear life. One of his legs was pressing between Kurt's, and Kurt could feel himself hardening quickly in his pants. From the sizable bulge he could feel stiffening on top of him, Carson was doing the same.

"Wait," Carson said, breaking from the kiss and looking down at Kurt, a worried expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" asked Kurt.

"You...your clothes," said Carson. "We...if we...you'll get your pants dirty..."

Kurt shook his head. "I don't care. That's what dry-cleaning is for," he said, catching Carson's lips back in a kiss and running his hands down his back as he spread his legs wider to allow Carson better freedom of movement. He rested his hands on Carson's ass, squeezing it through his pants and causing Carson to let out a moan that was muffled by their kissing. He started rutting eagerly against Kurt, and the friction was so amazing that Kurt's brain just turned itself completely off as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy it. His grip on Carson's ass tightened and he pressed down as he thrust up, intensifying the friction. Embarrassingly quickly, he could feel the tight heat in his stomach coiling toward critical mass.

"Mmmph...oh god," he moaned, not wanting to come so soon but knowing he was powerless to stop it. With a loud whine, he let go and came hard, his dick twitching in his pants as he felt them filling up with wetness. Carson gazed at him in wonder, his hands running tenderly up and down Kurt's arms as Kurt came down from his high.

"You ok?" he asked softly. Kurt bit his lip and nodded. He felt Carson still hard against him and whined at the sensitivity, sitting up and pulling Carson in for a sweet kiss before trailing one hand down his twin's chest and stomach, stopping at the top of his pants. He quickly worked the button and pulled the zipper down, snaking his hand inside and into Carson's underwear and taking hold of his dick. He briefly marveled at how good Carson felt in his hand, and decided he was definitely going to want to touch him more later, when he could take his time and really look. And taste.

For now, though, he just wanted to get Carson off, so he began earnestly working his hand up and down the shaft, twisting his wrist as best he could on every upstroke to stimulate the head, and using the pre-come that had gathered at the tip for lubrication. Carson's eyes had shot open wide and he was letting out tiny little gasps as he looked at Kurt with his mouth open.

"Kurt, I..." he tried to say, words failing him as his eyes closed and Kurt's ministrations increased. His hands flew up to Kurt's shoulders, gripping them desperately.

"Let go, Carsey," said Kurt gently as he continued working him with his hand. "Let go, baby. Let me see you." Carson took several short, panting breaths and then arched, throwing his head back as he came with a moan. His dick pulsated and shot wet warmth all over Kurt's hand, and if Kurt hadn't already come, he would have become hard again just from that, and the way Carson was shuddering through the aftershocks of his orgasm as he came down.

They just looked at each other for a minute, Kurt's hand still enclosed around Carson's softening dick, and Carson shakily leaned his face in to kiss Kurt lightly on the lips.

"Love you," he whispered. Kurt smiled and nibbled a little on his bottom lip.

"Love you, too," he answered.

Later that night, after the picnic (and them) had been cleaned up and they were cuddled up in Kurt's bed watching _Titanic_ on Kurt's laptop, Carson let out a sigh and hugged Kurt a little bit closer.

"Something on your mind?" asked Kurt.

"You mean, besides what we did out in the living room?" asked Carson.

"Mmm, that was fun," said Kurt, tracing his hand lazily across Carson's stomach.

"Yeah, it was," agreed Carson. "I just...sometimes I still think this has to be a dream. You know?"

Kurt nodded. "I know. I...I understand. It's hard to believe, but it's real."

Carson sighed again. "I just never thought I would be this lucky."

Kurt smiled and kissed his chest. "Actually, _I'm_ the lucky one, baby." He leaned his head up and kissed Carson deeply, pouring all the passion he felt in his heart into the kiss. He wanted Carson to feel as loved and cherished as he felt.

They never did finish watching _Titanic_. Making out was a much more appealing option.

* * *

Carson didn't have time to plan anything romantic the next day after Kurt left for work, because he had exhausted all the clean clothes he had packed and desperately needed to do laundry. He spent several hours in a local laundromat, dropping off Kurt's soiled pants from the night before for dry-cleaning while he was at it. The girl behind the counter gave him an amused look, and he gave her bitch face, silently daring her to say anything. She didn't.

It was early afternoon by the time he got back to the apartment with his clean laundry, and he was just hanging up his hoodies in Kurt's closet when he heard a knocking on the door.

"Kurt?" he heard a familiar voice calling from behind it. "Kurt, I forgot my key. Are you home?" Carson groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. _God, not Trollberry. I'm not sure I have the strength._

He crossed the apartment and slid the door open, thoroughly enjoying the disappointed look on Rachel's face when she was greeted with him instead of Kurt.

"Oh," she said deflatedly. "You're still here."

"Yep," said Carson cheerfully as she stepped into the apartment. "My visit has been extended. Indefinitely."

"But you _are_ going home at some point, correct?" she asked as she disappeared into her bedroom behind her privacy curtain.

"Eventually," he said with a shrug. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms thoughtfully as he watched her fill a bag with some clothes and various bottles and tubes from her dresser.

_The fuck is she wearing? _he thought, as he looked in horror at her outfit._ I'm nauseated from those short shorts, and god, I definitely NEVER needed to see that much of her boobs hanging out ever again. That outfit Kurt made her wear in the tenth grade was more than enough. _

"So, what's up with this?" he asked.

"What's up with what?" she asked absentmindedly as she tossed things into her bag.

"Your outfit," Carson replied. "Your whole new look in general. What do they call that in the fashion world? Streetwalker Chic?"

Rachel stiffened and turned around, glaring at him. "Charming as ever, Carson," she said, giving him a sarcastic smile. "I'll have you know that your own brother was responsible for my makeover, and I think I trust his taste in clothes a little more than yours."

_Kurtsie, I love you, but the world did NOT need to see this much of Rachel Berry's bare skin._

"Hmm. What's with the makeup, though?" asked Carson. "Do you perhaps work as a birthday party clown on the side? I have to say, Trollberry, I approve of this career change. I think you really have a shot at it. Best of luck to you," he finished with a cheeky grin.

"Ugh," Rachel groaned, zipping her bag shut and slinging it over her shoulder as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Screw this. I'm going to stay with Brody for a little while longer. Tell Kurt I'll be back when you're gone," she said huffily.

"Have fun!" Carson called cheerfully, waving at her as she rolled her eyes and walked out of the apartment, sliding the door shut behind her.

_Thank god,"_ he thought in relief after the door shut. _I did NOT want her ass hanging around. I...well...what with Kurt and I, and all... _Long story short, he was extremely grateful that Rachel wasn't going to be around to be a cockblock.

He left to go into the city then, not wanting to be late meeting Kurt after his work day ended, and arrived right on time, walking into Kurt's office just as his brother was tossing something into the trash. A huge bouquet of flowers sat on his desk, which he was looking at with extreme distaste.

"What are those?" Carson asked, his stomach doing a nervous flip as he indicated the flowers.

Kurt sighed. "They...they're from Blaine," he said quickly, looking uncomfortably from Carson to the flowers and back again. "I've been ignoring his calls and texts, so I guess now he's stepped up to tangible gift items."

Carson felt a surge of anger radiating through his body as he glared at the flowers. "Asshole," he muttered. "I _bet_ he's been texting. Probably trying to convince you that it wasn't really cheating and he just tripped and landed ass first on some strange guy's dick."

Kurt gave him a small smile and got up from his desk, wrapping Carson up in a hug. "It's ok, Carsey," he whispered reassuringly. "They're just flowers. Come on, let's go home and spend some quality time together," he said with a wink. Carson felt himself blushing as all sorts of visions danced through his head. He wanted so badly to kiss him, but knew that he couldn't. Not the way he wanted. Not in public. So he settled for raising his eyebrows and tapping Kurt lightly on the tip of the nose.

"Sounds like a plan," he answered, placing one arm around Kurt's shoulder and leading him away. They arrived home just as it was beginning to get dark, and Kurt let out a tired little sigh as they entered the apartment.

"You ok?" asked Carson, concerned. "You must be exhausted."

"I'm a little bit tired," said Kurt with a shrug. "I think maybe I'll take a bath before I eat anything."

"Ok," agreed Carson. "I was thinking maybe pizza."

"Pizza would be _heaven_," groaned Kurt happily. "Pepperoni, please? Rachel never lets me get it when we order pizza together."

"Sure," said Carson. "Oh, speaking of Trollberry, she was here today. She said to tell you she's staying with Brady for a while longer."

"Brody," Kurt corrected him. "And that works. I love her, but..." he trailed off, looking shyly at Carson. "You know. _Us_."

Carson nodded. "Exactly," he said with a smile. "Want me to run your bath for you?"

Kurt shook his head in protest. "No, that's ok, Carsey. You don't have to."

"I _want_ to, Kurtsie," said Carson with a smile, reaching out to stroke Kurt's cheek lovingly. He leaned in and caught Kurt's lips in a deep kiss, shivering as Kurt ran his tongue across his bottom lip delightfully. "I'll have it ready in a minute."

Kurt smiled. "Ok," he agreed. He headed off to the bedroom while Carson went into the bathroom, taking a towel from the little shelf above the toilet and placing it on the edge of the tub. He turned the water on, letting the hot run for a minute before adding a little bit of cold. Just a little bit, because he knew Kurt liked it almost scalding. He'd never understood that particular preference, but whatever Kurt wanted he would get. He added a sprinkle of the bubble bath from the box in the tub and watched as the tub filled with water and satisfying suds.

"You really spoil me, you know," said Kurt from behind him, and Carson turned around to see him standing there clad in nothing but a bathrobe. He swallowed and started playing with his hands nervously.

"Yeah, well..." he said, feeling himself blushing again from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. "I...I enjoy spoiling you. I've waited so long just for the opportunity to spoil you and show you how much I love you."

Kurt smiled and kissed him before stepping back and untying the waist of his robe, letting it fall from his shoulders and pool at his feet, leaving him completely naked and standing there in front of Carson, who sucked in a breath and tried not to faint.

_Oh fuck, he's so gorgeous,_ he thought as he took in Kurt's form, knowing that his mouth was hanging open and not quite remembering how to close it. _Oh god, I just...I can't...he looks even better than I imagined, and...oh dear god, his dick...it's beautiful...everything is beautiful...I..._ He lost all train of thought as Kurt stepped forward again and kissed him, his nude body pressed to Carson's clothed one, and Carson almost fainted dead away. It took him almost a full minute to realize that Kurt had stepped away again, and the next time he turned around, he was greeted by an eyeful of Kurt's gorgeous bare ass as his twin stepped into the bathtub gingerly and settled down, letting out a happy sigh.

"Mmm," Kurt murmured. "This is nice."

Carson couldn't answer him. He was too busy staring while trying not to look like he was blatantly staring. Unfortunately, he wasn't very good at it.

"Enjoying the view?" Kurt asked seductively, and Carson's brain was really having a hard time coming up with words, because _God, Kurt, you can't just talk like that, ok? it does stuff to me, and...and...fuck, what was I even just saying? _

"Would you like to join me?" asked Kurt, biting his lip in a _really_ appealing way, and that was the precise moment Carson's brain short circuited.

"I...I...I..." he stammered. "I don't...don't need to...you...bath...pizza..."

Kurt laughed. "You're so adorable when you try to pretend you _don't_ want to strip off those damn clothes and come join me," he said, his voice getting lower and rougher as he neared the end of that sentence. Carson felt his heart rate climbing, probably to a dangerous level, as he swallowed and tried to summon up the brainpower to do...something. Anything. _Don't just stand there, Carson, you look like a jackass._

"I...can I?" he asked, almost in a whisper, and Kurt smiled and nodded eagerly.

"I want you in here, Carsey," he said with his signature pout, and that was it. Carson, after all, could never resist the pout. He shakily started removing his clothes as quickly as he could, and Kurt's eyes widened in delight as he stood there in front of him, finally nude.

"Wow," said Kurt breathily. "Yeah, you need to get in here. Like, yesterday." Carson walked slowly up to the bathtub and took a deep breath before carefully climbing in, settling himself in Kurt's lap so that his back was pressed up against his chest. He could feel Kurt's dick underneath him and shivered as Kurt wrapped his arms around him.

"There we go," he murmured in Carson's ear, placing little kisses there and darting his tongue out to swipe at the sensitive spot below. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm dying," answered Carson, his eyes closed as Kurt started sucking lazily at his neck. At the rate they were going, he was going to be one giant hickey by the end of the week. He said a silent prayer of thanks that Rachel hadn't seemed to notice anything when she was there today, and _Fuck, Carson, stop thinking about Trollberry while Kurt is doing things with his tongue...oh god, keep doing that, Kurt._

"Shhh," soothed Kurt, his hands now sliding up and down the slippery skin of Carson's chest. "Relax, baby. You're tense." He lightly tweaked one of Carson's nipples as he caught his earlobe between his teeth, and Carson couldn't stop himself from moaning as he felt his dick stiffening. One of Kurt's hands stayed on his chest while the other traveled lower, and if Carson felt like he was dying before, that was nothing compared to how he felt when Kurt's hand lightly brushed against his growing hardness.

"Kurt," he breathed.

"Do you want me to touch you, Carsey?" Kurt whispered in his ear. "Can I make you feel good?"

Carson's breath hitched as he nodded. "Y...yes." He felt Kurt hardening, his dick pressing into the small of his back as his hand gently encircled Carson's erection. Carson moaned as a wave of pleasure rippled through his body, the warm water doing nothing to help his elevating temperature.

"You're so hot, Carson," Kurt said softly, and Carson didn't know whether he meant literally or figuratively, but either way worked for him. He didn't really care, because Kurt's hand was stroking him slowly, almost agonizingly so, and it was both extremely pleasurable and extremely torturous at the same time. It was good, _so good_, and yet not nearly enough.

"Kuuuurt," he moaned as his twin continued touching him tantalizingly. "Kurt, I...please..."

"What do you need, baby?" asked Kurt in a soothing voice. "Tell me."

Carson bit his lip. "I need...need you...please..._ah...fuck!" _he cried out as Kurt sped up his hand, finally providing Carson with the friction he was now desperate for, made all the more intense by the addition of the hot water they were in. He tried to stop himself from bucking up into Kurt's hand and was woefully unsuccessful.

"It's ok, Carsey," said Kurt. "It's ok. Go ahead. Fuck my hand, sweetheart." Just the sound of Kurt swearing while doing _that_ made Carson let out a moan that he was sure could be heard all the way in Manhattan. He leaned back and rested his head on Kurt's chest as the warm water and bubbles bobbed around them and Kurt continued working him over. He could feel a pleasant orgasm building steadily in the lower half of his body.

"Kurt...Kurt...oh god, _shit_," Carson panted, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He could feel Kurt's dick throbbing against him, and _fuck, _that was so hot, and he suddenly really wanted to be facing Kurt when he came. He gently batted Kurt's hand away and maneuvered himself so that he was kneeling between Kurt's legs, facing him, and Kurt gave him a brief questioning look before Carson took his own dick and Kurt's in his fist and started stroking them together.

"Ooooh," Kurt moaned, throwing his head back as Carson took over the stroking. "Oh god, Carson...yes.."

Encouraged, Carson experimented with the speed of his stroking until he saw Kurt's face take on a wild look and his breath started coming out in short, gaspy breaths.

"Oh shit...like that, Carson. Like that, don't stop..._don't stop...ah.._"

Carson had no intention of stopping. Not when his hand was causing Kurt to make all those gorgeous noises. He performed half a dozen more strokes before he felt Kurt tense up beneath him, his face contorting in pleasure as he pulsed and came in Carson's hand with a whine. The sight was enough for Carson, and he followed Kurt over the edge with two more pumps of his hand, spilling over his own fist and Kurt's dick and stomach. He sat there with both of their softening dicks still in his hand, gasping and trying to wrap his brain around what he'd just done. Kurt looked at him, his eyes blown black with arousal, his cheeks pink and his lips a tantalizing red, and let out a small breath.

"God," he breathed. Carson leaned in, unable to resist those lips, and gave him a hard, passionate kiss.

"You're gorgeous when you come," he said. "Just...I can't even take it, Kurt. You're just beautiful." Kurt's bottom lip quivered as if he were going to cry, but he didn't. He just reached up a hand to stroke at Carson's cheek.

"Shhh," he said. "Don't...let's just...come here." He pulled Carson against him, and Carson rested his head on Kurt's chest, the water splashing gently up around them as he listened to the beating of Kurt's heart. Surely, he thought, this is what heaven would feel like. If there was a heaven. _I'm so in love with this man, I can't even handle it. I wish I could be a giant cliché and shout it from the rooftops. Fucking society, though._

"I want to take you out," he blurted out later that night, as he and Kurt snuggled together in bed, preparing to go to sleep after gorging themselves on all the pepperoni pizza they could stand.

"Out?" asked Kurt.

"Yes," replied Carson. "Like...on a date. A real one. I just...you're my boyfriend now, and I want to take you out on a date and _treat_ you like my boyfriend. I know that we can't...you know...exactly be out and proud in public, but I just...you deserve everything in life, Kurt. Including a boyfriend who's proud of you and worships you and takes you out. I want to be that for you, Kurtsie. I want to give you that."

Kurt's lips curled into an affectionate smile. "Oh, Carsey. You _do_ give me that. I've never been more spoiled in my entire life."

"Well, you deserve it," Carson repeated. "I've waited my entire life for you, and now that I have you, I want to treat you like the prince you are."

Kurt leaned in and kissed him softly. "I'd love to go out on a date with you, Carsey," he said, his smile growing bigger.

"Good," said Carson, smiling back. "Um...how about tomorrow night? It's Friday, so..."

Kurt nodded. "Great. Where should we go?"

Carson shrugged. "I...um...actually, I don't know. But I'll think of something." He kissed Kurt on the forehead and turned out the bedside lamp. "In the meantime, let's go to sleep. I know how particular you are about your beauty rest. Even though you don't need it. You're naturally beautiful and make everybody else in the world look like rotting zombies."

Kurt snorted. "I love you, you weirdo."

"I love you, too," replied Carson. "But I wasn't kidding."

* * *

Carson spent much of the next day trying to figure out where he and Kurt could go for a date that was within their very limited budget. Everything in New York was so expensive, not to mention that nothing felt right, or special enough. Then again, he reminded himself, not very much _would_ be special enough to be worthy of Kurt. Kurt was one in a million.

_If only I could, like...rearrange the stars in the sky to spell out his name, or something. God, listen to me. Did I really just say that? Who am I? See? This is what love does to me. Or...at least...this is what being in love with KURT does to me._

He'd almost given up on finding a suitable idea for a date when he remembered that he'd passed by a quaint little cafe/bakery in a nearby neighborhood the other day while he was out buying groceries. Maybe that would work. Kurt had an insatiable sweet tooth. Not surprising, really, since he was so sweet himself. Plus, he usually loved little places like that. He always had. And it _would _be relatively inexpensive. Carson pictured the two of them in a cozy little booth, sharing a dessert and having eyes only for each other, as if the whole world had melted away but them. He almost shivered in delight at the thought.

He was practically bouncing around in excitement when Kurt got through with work that day, so eager was he to begin their evening. He'd made pasta for dinner for them to eat beforehand, since he wasn't going into the city to meet Kurt at his office (Kurt had insisted that he didn't need to do that and could stop, and Carson had reluctantly agreed, so long as Kurt called him frequently to let him know he was still breathing). He was just putting the finishing touches on the sauce when the door slid open and Kurt walked in.

"Kurtsie!" exclaimed Carson happily as Kurt crossed over to him and gave him a kiss. "Mmm, I missed you. How was work?"

"Exhausting, but satisfying," said Kurt with a smile. "God, that smells delicious," he said, indicating the pasta.

"It's just about ready," said Carson, stirring a pinch of pepper into the sauce. "About five more minutes."

"Awesome. I'm going to go change my clothes, then," said Kurt. "I want to look handsome for our date."

Carson smiled. "Ok." He busied himself arranging pasta into two plates and had everything beautifully set, if he did say so himself, by the time Kurt emerged from the bedroom, dressed in one of his "better" outfits (to Carson, they were all his better outfits...Kurt looked gorgeous in everything and anything).

"How do I look?" asked Kurt, doing a dramatic little spin for effect.

"Beautiful," said Carson with a smile. "Breathtakingly beautiful. As always." Kurt blushed and kissed him quickly.

"Your chair, baby," said Carson, pulling out Kurt's chair and gesturing for him to sit, which Kurt did. He sat himself across from Kurt and was almost literally unable to pry his eyes away from his twin for the entire meal, he was so enamored with him.

"Shall we go?" asked Carson once they had finished eating and the dishes had been placed in the sink to deal with later. "Your chariot awaits."

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure what he was expecting a date with Carson to be like, exactly. He wasn't sure it would be all that much different from when they used to go places together before they were dating. _Dating_. That word still seemed so foreign to Kurt. He still couldn't believe that he and Carson were actually in that type of relationship now. He would seriously have to learn how to get over it, because it was real, and damn it, he wanted to enjoy the fact that it was real.

Carson had insisted on driving them in his rental car instead of walking, because he felt the streets were too dangerous to walk at night, even though it was only seven in the evening and there were plenty of people walking around who would be more than happy to dial 911 if some demented murderer surprised them in an alley and threatened to take away Kurt's virtue.

Carson, needless to say, had _not_ been amused when Kurt had made that particular observation.

They had driven out of their neighborhood and into a slightly larger, slightly less scary one. Carson had parked the car outside a storefront that featured a lit-up neon sign proclaiming it to be called _The Rolling Scones_. Kurt squealed at the name.

"That's so cute!" he exclaimed.

"I saw this place while I was out grocery shopping the other day," Carson said after he went around to Kurt's side of the car to open the door for him. "I know you're a sucker for sweets, and I didn't know exactly where I should take you, and nothing seemed right, and..."

"Carsey," Kurt said reassuringly, taking his hand and squeezing gently. "It's adorable. Come on, let's go inside. I can hear the sound of sugar and chocolate calling my name. And yours."

Carson grinned and they pushed the door of the café open. Kurt's senses were overwhelmed by the smell of baked goods as they entered. There were countless glass cases inside, containing all sorts of muffins, cakes, pies, and cookies. There was a small ice cream area in the corner, and a dining area with tables and several booths. It was the most precious place Kurt had ever seen.

"I'm getting ice cream," he declared, his decision final as he looked at the tempting tub of chocolate in the frozen case. "What about you?"

Carson laughed. "You're adorable. I'm going to get a muffin."

They ordered their treats and sat down across from each other in a tiny corner booth, hidden away from most of the otherwise empty café. Kurt began licking his ice cream cone, and the way Carson stared and blushed certainly did not escape his attention. He grinned slyly and licked the ice cream slower, twirling his tongue seductively around the tip, and Carson coughed and looked down at his muffin.

"You're teasing me on purpose," he said in a hushed voice.

"Mmm, yep," replied Kurt, licking a long stripe around his ice cream. "Sure am."

"You're evil."

Kurt grinned. "Teasing you like this is fun, though."

Carson smiled as he shoved a chunk of muffin into his mouth. "I'll have my revenge."

Kurt raised one eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yep."

"What revenge might this be?" asked Kurt sweetly.

"I...um...you'll see," said Carson, chewing on his muffin thoughtfully and letting Kurt know that he actually had no idea. Kurt smiled and finished his ice cream, giving it several more filthy licks for Carson's benefit before actually eating it.

"You have a little bit of ice cream on the corner of your mouth, Kurtsie," said Carson with a smile as they prepared to get up and throw their trash away. "Here, I'll get it." He reached out his hand to gently swipe at the ice cream on Kurt's mouth, and Kurt had no idea what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he sucked Carson's finger into his mouth and sucked gently at the tip. Carson almost choked as his breath hitched and his eyes grew comically wide.

"God, Kurt," he said breathlessly. Kurt let go of his finger and darted his tongue out to lick at his own bottom lip briefly before giving him a big grin.

"I expect you'll be wanting to step up that revenge," he said as they got up, threw away their trash, and exited the café.

"You can say that again," mumbled Carson, but he was smiling.

They decided to take a little walk before heading back to the car, and Kurt looped his arm through Carson's, snuggling up to him as much as he dared, considering they were on a relatively populated street. _Whatever. We're twins. People can't say a damn thing about twins being close to each other._

"Carsey!" he exclaimed excitedly after they had been walking for about five minutes. "Look, there's a park! With swings! And it's empty!" He took Carson's hand and started running toward the swings, hopping onto one the second he reached them. He freaking _loved_ swings. Always had.

"Need a push?" Carson asked, an amused smile on his face as he watched Kurt kick his legs in the air. Kurt nodded.

"Please," he said gesturing behind him. Carson smiled and walked behind him, taking the chains of the swing in his hands and pulling Kurt back several feet before letting go.

"I'm flying!" Kurt said in his best Kate Winslet voice as Carson gently pushed at his back with every backswing, and he heard his twin chuckling behind him.

"You're too much, Kurtsie," he said as he pushed.

"Maybe," said Kurt as he kicked his legs out into the air. "But you love me."

"That I do," replied Carson. "You're too much, but you're all mine." He took hold of the swing's chain on the next backswing, holding Kurt in place. Kurt leaned his head back to face Carson's just in time for their lips to meet in a sweet, gentle kiss.

"People could have seen," Kurt whispered as their lips parted from each other.

"I don't care," Carson whispered back, kissing him again as stars danced behind Kurt's eyes.

They got home an hour later, barely able to keep their hands off each other long enough to get into the apartment. The second the door was closed behind them, Kurt had Carson pressed up against the wall, kissing him like his life depended on it before moving his lips down to kiss, suck, and bite desperately at whatever bit of Carson's neck he could reach, his hands roaming until they found the hem of Carson's T-shirt and pulled it up and off.

"Kurt," Carson panted in between kisses. His hands were also exploring, and Kurt had to laugh at the way his twin was desperately trying to figure out how to remove Kurt's admittedly complicated shirt without snagging it or otherwise ruining it.

"Mmmph...here, let me," Kurt said, breaking his lips away from Carson long enough to expertly remove his shirt and place it neatly on a nearby chair before resuming their activities. "What do you want to do?" he asked in a low voice as he nibbled at Carson's earlobe.

"_Oh_...I..._fuck..._whatever you...you want..._shit_," Carson gasped as Kurt began sucking eagerly where his neck met his shoulder. He couldn't help but go to that spot every time they made out. Carson just tasted really good right there.

"I think..." said Kurt as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin. "I think I want to blow you."

"Oh my _god_," Carson moaned, his hands scrabbling at Kurt's back. "God, please, yes!"

Kurt broke away from him and pulled him toward the bedroom by his hand. "You. Bed. Now," he ordered, pointing to the bed as he began removing his own pants, rather than put Carson through the difficulty of doing it. "Don't take those jeans off yet. I wanna do it." Carson nodded and obeyed, flopping down on the bed on his back and watching Kurt strip with lust-blown eyes. Kurt could see that he was already starting to harden, his erection creating a noticeable bump in the crotch of his jeans. Kurt smiled and crawled onto the bed wearing only his boxer briefs, kneeling down by Carson's side and stroking gently at his cheek.

"I love you," he said, leaning down to kiss him gently. "It's gonna be good, ok?" Carson nodded, his eyes wide and growing wider as Kurt continued where he'd left off when they came in. He kissed down Carson's neck and made his way to his collarbone, placing small kisses and nips with his teeth every few inches. Carson was gasping and stroking gently at Kurt's hair.

"Kurt...my Kurtsie..." he murmured, and Kurt smiled as he kissed his way down his twin's chest, stopping to suck one of his nipples into his mouth.

"Kurt!" Carson cried out, his back arching off the bed as Kurt sucked at the hardened nub, laving his tongue around it when he was through. He turned his attention to the other nipple and did the same thing as Carson whimpered and whined.

"You like that?" asked Kurt, releasing the second nipple and stroking gently at Carson's stomach. "You ok?"

Carson nodded eagerly and Kurt pressed a small kiss to his chest and continued working his way down Carson's torso with his mouth. He didn't forget to nip a mark into the skin every so often, either. Apparently he had a thing for marking. He stopped when he reached the top of Carson's jeans, gently placing the palm of his hand over the growing bulge in the crotch.

"So beautiful, Carsey," he breathed, massaging Carson's hard-on slowly and gently through the fabric of his pants. "Gonna take your pants off now, ok?" Carson nodded, and Kurt bit his lip, eagerly undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. He pulled the pants off in no time, tossing them carelessly behind him and knowing Carson wouldn't care. Carson was really hard now, his dick straining against his underwear, and Kurt's mouth practically watered as he settled himself comfortably between Carson's legs and experimentally dragged his tongue up his length through the fabric, just to see how Carson would react.

He reacted, alright. He gasped in pleasure and grabbed fistfuls of the comforter as Kurt grinned and took that as the go-ahead to continue mouthing him through the briefs.

"Kurt...Kurt Kurt Kurt, fuck.." Carson babbled, whining as Kurt found the head of his clothed dick and twirled his tongue around it. "Kurt, please.."

Kurt rubbed gently at his stomach and caught his eye. "Gonna take your underwear off, now." Carson nodded, and Kurt hooked his fingers into the waistband, gently pulling them down and off and tossing them to join Carson's jeans on the floor. Kurt was now face to face with Carson's very naked, very erect dick, and he was practically beside himself with joy. He couldn't wait to taste it, so he didn't. He leaned down and gave a few gentle kitten licks to the head.

"Oh god," Carson moaned, squirming. "Please..." Kurt licked a long stripe up the underside, from Carson's balls to his tip, before taking the head between his lips and gently sucking the same way he'd sucked on his ice cream cone earlier. Carson was so responsive, moaning his appreciation as Kurt sucked, and Kurt was loving it. Which was kind of surprising, really. He'd never enjoyed giving Blaine blowjobs very much. Probably because they were usually the result of Blaine whining and begging until Kurt sighed and gave in. This, Kurt realized with a start, was the first time he was actually giving someone head because he _wanted_ to, rather than because he was feeling coerced into it.

Not to mention that Carson actually tasted pretty damn good. A little bitter, but not nearly as much as Kurt was used to.

"Kurt, yes," Carson moaned, and Kurt decided he'd teased him enough. There would be other times to tease for longer, but he didn't want to do that tonight. He positioned himself comfortably, took hold of Carson's length with one hand, and slowly lowered his mouth down on it, fitting as much as he could into his mouth at once (which was less than he would have liked...Carson was significantly better endowed than Blaine, which was saying a lot, because Blaine hadn't been exactly small). Carson practically screamed as Kurt sucked around him, using one hand to play with his balls and the other to stroke at the parts of Carson's length he couldn't fit in his mouth.

"Kurt, oh god, I love you," Carson whimpered, his thighs twitching, and Kurt could tell he was trying to restrain himself from bucking up into his mouth. He popped off of him and rubbed his stomach softly.

"It's ok, Carsey," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "You can thrust a little, just...just be gentle, ok?"

"O..ok," Carson said breathlessly, crying out as Kurt sunk back onto him. He gave short little thrusts into his mouth, clearly trying to follow instructions and be gentle, and Kurt was thoroughly enjoying looking up at him through his eyelashes, meeting his eyes and seeing the effect this was having on him. Carson looked completely blissed out and debauched, his cheeks flushed and his bottom lip swollen from biting it. He looked delicious. Kurt decided to step it up a notch. He maneuvered himself a little and kept sinking down until he felt the tip of Carson's dick entering his throat.

"Kuuuurt!" Carson cried as Kurt used one hand to reach up and stroke his chest and stomach. Kurt moaned around the length in his mouth, and the vibrations seemed to drive Carson absolutely fucking wild, since he started babbling incoherently and his hands flew to Kurt's hair, although, Kurt noticed, he was careful not to pull at it. He kept Carson in his throat as long as he could before pulling off and tracing the bulging, pulsating vein on the underside with his tongue.

"Oh god, oh god.." Carson babbled, his breathing quick and his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Kurt, I'm...I..."

"You close, baby?" asked Kurt, peppering the sides of his dick with small kisses. Carson nodded empathetically, and Kurt smiled. He sunk down on Carson's length again, sucking earnestly when he felt the tip enter his throat, and hummed for good measure. He felt Carson twitch and pulse, and then he was coming hard down Kurt's throat with a shout. Kurt swallowed it all and then pulled off with a pop, his own dick so hard in his underwear now that it was painful. This had to be the hottest thing he'd ever done. Ever. He snaked one hand into his underwear and began stroking himself as he looked up at Carson and gently rubbed his leg with his other hand.

"You ok, Carsey?" he asked as he watched his twin slowly regain his breath and throw one arm over his eyes.

"I...I think I'm dead, actually," replied Carson. "Fuck, Kurt, that...that was...where did you learn...actually, no...I don't want to know." He moved his arm and looked down at Kurt, frowning as he put the pieces together and realized what Kurt's other hand was doing.

"Are you still hard, sweetheart?" he asked softly. Kurt whimpered and nodded, stroking himself faster, desperate to get off. Carson sat up and shook his head.

"No...no, Kurtsie, please...let me," he said, grabbing Kurt's shoulders and gently lowering him onto his back on the bed while he positioned himself between Kurt's legs and pulled his underwear down gingerly.

"Fuck," he said under his breath as he stared at Kurt's erection. Kurt had no time to register what was happening before Carson was taking him into his mouth, clearly unsure what to do, but quickly beginning to get the hang of licking and sucking. Kurt was astonished and not sure what to do himself. He wasn't used to receiving blowjobs. Blaine had only ever given him a few, and they were extremely half-hearted ones at that, which Blaine let it be known he didn't enjoy giving. Carson, though. He was inexperienced, but he obviously wanted to be giving Kurt pleasure, and Kurt felt his stomach glowing pleasantly at the feeling of being loved and cared for. He knew this wasn't going to last very long. Not with how turned on he already was. He could feel himself coming before Carson had even had his mouth on him for thirty seconds.

"Car...Carson," he moaned in warning, and Carson took the hint and pulled off, placing his hand around Kurt and pumping him firmly until Kurt cried out and came, coating his hand and chest. He settled down into the pillows and breathed hard as Carson reached over to the nightstand for the package of wet wipes they had taken to keeping there.

"Kurt," he said quietly after he'd cleaned himself off. "I...fuck, I can't even describe what that was..."

Kurt smiled and held his arms out, wrapping Carson in them as his twin cuddled up to him, their naked bodies pressed up against each other skin to skin for the first time ever. It felt so nice. There was nothing separating their heartbeats from each other as they just held each other and slowly fell asleep. They didn't say their usual "I love yous." They didn't need to. Nothing mattered except that they were together.

Especially not the fifteen missed texts from Blaine that Kurt would wake up to the next morning.


	24. Chapter 24

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, guys! Welcome to the new chapter, otherwise known as "Moar Smut." We've been loving all of your lovely reviews and comments on Twitter and Tumblr (not to mention the gorgeous fan art!), and we feel very lucky for each and every one of you who read and enjoy this fic. Seriously, you're all awesome. That said...**

**Let's read!**

Carson smiled to himself as he emerged from Kurt's bedroom, having just finished getting dressed following a nice, long shower. He'd needed one. He and Kurt had had quite the adventurous night. Actually, the past couple of nights, and the entire weekend so far, had all been pretty adventurous, ever since Carson had discovered the joy of blowjobs. Specifically, giving them to Kurt. The first time he'd done it, the night of their first real date, he'd been on such a high already from such a romantic evening, and then from receiving _his_ first-ever blowjob from Kurt, that he was pretty much on autopilot and just did what came to him naturally. He'd had no idea what he was doing, of course, having never done it before, although he had done a bit of research on the internet just in case this moment ever came. Now that it had, he'd just gone for it, and to his pleasant surprise, Kurt hadn't seemed to mind what he was doing. In fact, he'd seemed to be enjoying it. He was making all these absolutely delicious noises, and Carson had felt pretty damn powerful, knowing that he was the one causing them.

"Did I...you know...do ok?" Carson had asked him the next morning as they lay in bed together, cuddling as close to one another as possible.

"You mean, when you...?" Kurt asked, trailing off at the end of the question, but Carson knew what he meant.

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, I'd never done it before, and I just...just wanted to make sure it was good for you."

Kurt smiled, taking Carson's hand in his own and entwining their fingers together. "Sweetie, you were wonderful. No complaints."

"None?" asked Carson, smiling back.

"None," confirmed Kurt. "Actually, I'm not really...you know...accustomed to receiving, so the fact that you did it at all...I just...I hope you know how much I love you."

Carson was completely taken aback at these words, turning them over in his mind as he tried to process them. What did he mean he wasn't used to receiving?

"What do you mean?" he asked, not really _wanting_ to know details, but unable to push the slowly brewing anger away. "Didn't Braxton ever...?"

Kurt shook his head, snuggling closer to Carson, if that was even possible, and suddenly looking shy. "Nope. Well, I mean, a few times, but he didn't really like doing it. He always complained about it, so I always just found it easier not to have him do it at all."

The anger inside Carson turned into a rolling boil in a matter of seconds. _That fucker was constantly trying to push Kurt into shit he didn't want to do, and he couldn't fucking be assed to reciprocate without bitching about it? Fuck, he's so lucky that he's a plane ride away from here, because I would go kick his bowtie wearing ass right the fuck now if I could._

"Asshole," he muttered angrily, and Kurt let go of his hand to softly stroke Carson's cheek.

"It's ok, Carsey," he said quietly. "It's in the past and it's no longer an issue, so let's not dwell on it, ok? We're together now, and that's all that matters to me." Carson leaned his face in close to Kurt's and kissed him softly, hoping Kurt could feel in it how much he was loved and cherished. The tiny part of his mind that had been worrying since all this began that he was more of a rebound fling to Kurt than anything else grew even tinier, and he swore to himself right then that he would make it his mission to give Kurt as much pleasure as he possibly could.

_He really does love me. I can feel it. Just as much as I love him. Or maybe not. I don't think he COULD love me as much as I love him. I love him so much that this would be pretty impossible. But, you know. You know what I mean._

He thought it was pretty safe to say now that he was addicted to Kurt's dick, because he seriously could not get enough of having it in his mouth and watching Kurt's face as his twin came undone. Obviously he really loved when Kurt did it to him, too, but he enjoyed doing it to Kurt even more. They'd spent most of the weekend in the apartment going to town on each other, and not strictly in the bedroom, either. They did it wherever they happened to be at the time, and if that turned out to be on the couch, or in the bathtub, or up against the door, or a wall, then, well...why bother moving to the bedroom? And now, as Carson emerged from the room and took in the adorable, heartwarming sight of Kurt stirring cookie batter and placing lumps of it on a baking sheet, he realized that the kitchen was one place that they had, as of yet, not christened.

"Morning, beautiful," he said, walking up behind Kurt and wrapping his arms around his waist, dipping his head to nuzzle softly between Kurt's neck and shoulder. He placed a kiss there, and he heard Kurt let out a happy sigh.

"Mmm, morning, Carsey," replied Kurt, turning his head to catch Carson's lips in a kiss.

"What kind of cookies are they?" asked Carson, looking down at Kurt's full baking sheet.

"Chocolate chip," answered Kurt. "Because they're your favorite." Carson grinned against his neck and kissed the skin again.

"You're adorable," he mumbled, continuing to kiss him as Kurt took the baking sheet and placed it carefully into the oven before setting the timer.

"Well, you know. I try."

"How long do we have?" asked Carson between kisses. "Before the cookies are done. How many minutes?"

"About ten," answered Kurt, gasping as Carson started experimentally sucking on his neck (something he had been reluctant to do at first, but which he was quickly discovering was one of his favorite things). He slowly slid his hands up Kurt's stomach, stopping at his chest and gently massaging him through the thin fabric of his T-shirt.

"Can I?" he whispered in Kurt's ear. Kurt shivered under his hands and nodded.

"Think you can make it before the timer goes off?" he quipped as Carson turned him around and backed him against the kitchen wall, dropping to his knees in front of him and hooking his fingers into the waistband of Kurt's pajama bottoms.

"Challenge accepted," replied Carson cheekily as he pulled the pajamas down, letting them bunch at Kurt's knees. He took Kurt's half hard dick in his hand and gave it a couple of strokes before leaning in and wrapping his lips delicately around the tip, darting his tongue out to tease just a little. He was slowly but surely becoming much more confident in his technique, and he had a pretty good idea by now what Kurt liked. And teasing drove Kurt _wild_. He circled his tongue around for a bit, looking up occasionally to see how Kurt was reacting. Kurt was looking down at him, his eyes locked intently on him as he bit his lip in pleasure, and Carson decided he'd teased enough. He wanted to hear Kurt making those noises he liked so much, so he took as much of Kurt's length in his mouth as he could fit, not stopping until he felt the tip hitting the back of his throat. It had taken him a lot of practice to be able to do that without gagging, and he'd been so embarrassed the first few times he'd had to pull off and wait to stop choking, but Kurt had been very patient and reassuring.

"You don't have to do it," he'd said on more than one occasion. "It takes a while to get the hang of it."

Well, screw that. Carson was no quitter. By now, thanks to much practice and perseverance, he was able to keep Kurt in his mouth for almost ten whole seconds at a time (he'd timed it), and he was damn proud of himself. He started sucking around Kurt, his hand encircling the root of his dick to cover what he couldn't fit in his mouth and stroking teasingly the way he had discovered drove Kurt nuts, trying to elicit the sounds he was longing to hear. It worked, for Kurt was gasping and letting out sexy little whines, and every noise he made was going straight to Carson's own dick. He ignored that, wanting to focus solely on Kurt, because Kurt was beautiful, and Kurt was perfect, and Kurt deserved everything that Carson could possibly give him.

"I love you," Kurt whispered between gasps, letting one hand rest in Carson's hair, and Carson stroked lovingly at Kurt's thigh with his free hand, slowly pulling off of him and letting his tongue drag teasingly down the length. He traced a vein with his tongue, looking up into Kurt's lust-blown eyes, and it hit him again just how much he loved this man and would happily do absolutely anything for him. He snuck a glance over to the timer on the oven, which indicated there were now six minutes left until the cookies would be finished baking. Time to up the ante.

He slid his mouth down Kurt again, beginning to bob his head back and forth, and sucked as hard as he dared. Kurt let out a moan and his fingers tightened in Carson's hair, pulling slightly and causing a swooping sensation in Carson's stomach that traveled straight to his already half-hard dick, making it stiffen even further. Apparently, he had a thing for having his hair pulled and they would _definitely_ have to explore that more. He moaned around Kurt's dick, and Kurt seemed to take the hint, pulling a little more on the fistful of Carson's hair he had a hold of.

"God, Carson, your mouth...I can't..." Kurt gasped as Carson alternated between hard sucks and teasing licks across throbbing veins. He would happily have stayed on his knees forever doing this, but all too soon he heard Kurt's gasps growing louder and more frequent, and Kurt was pulling on his hair again, urgently this time.

"C-carson," he panted, moaning as Carson gave him a particularly hard suck. "Carson, I'm gonna...let me just..." He pulled gently out of Carson's mouth, but Carson shook his head, taking him back in his hand and looking up at him.

"No...can...I want to try..." he said, not sure how to ask. Somehow "Can I swallow your come?" didn't seem like it would roll naturally off his tongue. Luckily, Kurt knew what he meant, and his eyes widened in shock.

"But, you...you've never..." Kurt babbled in protest as Carson took him back in his mouth and sucked, increasing the speed of the bobbing of his head. He looked up in time to see Kurt throwing his head back in pleasure, and soon enough, he felt Kurt swelling and throbbing, just before Kurt moaned loudly and a rush of warmth flooded his mouth. It only momentarily took him by surprise, but Carson quickly regained his wits and closed his eyes in order to savor the new sensation. Kurt tasted sweet, better than he'd been expecting, actually, and he found he didn't have any trouble swallowing down everything Kurt gave him. He kept his mouth on him, gently sucking him through his orgasm as he worked the root of his dick with his hand.

_I can't fucking believe that Billy had the opportunity to do this all the time and never wanted to. What an idiot. Not that I would have wanted him to, though._

"Carson," Kurt said breathily as he brought one hand up to Carson's face, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb. Carson pulled off of Kurt's softening dick, giving him a few more licks to clean him off and placing a soft kiss to the tip before resting his head against Kurt's warm thigh for just a second to regain his breathing.

"I love you," they said at the exact same time, and Carson laughed and kissed Kurt's hip.

"You taste awesome," he said as he pulled Kurt's pants back up and put them back into place, patting him affectionately on the ass before standing back up. He found himself being ambushed by Kurt's lips almost as soon as he was standing upright as Kurt kissed him deeply, running his tongue tantalizingly across Carson's bottom lip.

"You're hard," he said, clearly able to feel Carson pressing against him. Carson shifted and shrugged.

"It's not important," he said. "It's on its way down."

"But-" Kurt protested, but his words were cut off by the sound of the oven timer.

"Cookies!" exclaimed Carson gleefully as Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes. He watched as Kurt opened the oven and took out the cookies, removing them from the baking sheet and placing them on a cooling rack.

"Fine," said Kurt as he spooned more cookie batter onto the now empty tray. "But later I'm going to return that amazing favor you just did for me."

"Whatever you want, baby," answered Carson with a smile as he darted his tongue out to taste his lips. "And by the way, I think I've discovered my new favorite flavor."

"You're gross."

"No, I mean it," said Carson, grinning now. "I had no idea swallowing would be that..._hot_."

Kurt blushed, putting the new batch of cookies into the oven and resetting the timer. "Come on, Carsey. You don't have to pretend it's the best thing ever just because it's mine, you know. You can be honest with me."

"Kurt, I _am_ being honest," Carson insisted. "Your, um...your come tastes wonderful." _God, that's a sentence I never thought would ever leave my mouth. It's true, though._

"How does it compare to this?" asked Kurt, taking one of the cooled cookies off the rack and gently shoving it into Carson's mouth. Carson closed his eyes and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

"They taste the same to me," he said with a sly grin. Kurt raised his eyebrows and swatted him playfully on the arm.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked lovingly, sitting with his chin in one hand as he fed Carson bits of cookie with the other.

"Love me?" asked Carson. Kurt's smile grew bigger as he leaned over to kiss Carson on the forehead.

"Already do, love. Already do."

* * *

The remainder of that weekend, Kurt decided, was the most perfect weekend he'd ever spent in his entire life. The rest of Sunday, after their morning escapade in the kitchen, was spent just hanging out together, polishing off every last cookie Kurt had made, cuddling on the couch watching TV...and letting their hands and mouths wander wherever they felt like it. Kurt wasn't sure why Carson seemed to love giving head so much, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. It was nice, actually, after so much time spent with Blaine, who never took the time to really care about Kurt's pleasure, to be with somebody who seemed to care about nothing _but_ Kurt's pleasure.

"I just really like making you feel good," Carson said as they took a small recuperation break in the middle of the afternoon, Carson propped up against the wall while Kurt rested his back against his chest. "You deserve everything, Kurt. Just...just _everything_, and I want to give you everything, and I...I just..."

Kurt smiled and took one of Carson's hands in his own, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it. "You're the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for, Carsey."

"Really?" asked Carson. Kurt leaned his head back as Carson looked down, their eyes meeting.

"Really," he said. Carson leaned down further to kiss him then, and Kurt seriously felt like the luckiest guy in the world in that moment.

"Now, where else in this apartment haven't we...um...blessed?" asked Kurt thoughtfully, looking around for inspiration.

"I don't know," answered Carson with a shrug. "I think we've pretty much covered everywhere except maybe Trollberry's bed." Kurt looked toward Rachel's privacy curtain, an idea forming in his mind as he felt an evil smile spreading across his face.

"Kurt?" asked Carson as Kurt stood up and grabbed his hands. "Kurt..._Kurt_, I was _joking_! We can't do this stuff in her bed, I have nightmares about what _she_ does in her bed!" Kurt just dragged him into Rachel's room and gently pushed him backwards onto the bed.

"So you're saying you don't want me to do this?" asked Kurt slyly as he got on the bed himself and began crawling toward Carson, who backed up until he was settled against Rachel's many decorative pillows. He knelt and placed one leg on either side of Carson's thighs, straddling him and wrapping his arms around Carson's neck.

"Or this?" he continued, leaning down to kiss him on the lips before traveling his mouth over to catch Carson's earlobe, sucking briefly before nipping at the skin just below with his teeth. Carson shivered beneath him and closed his eyes.

"Kurt..."

"Or this?" said Kurt, beginning to really enjoy himself as he settled his lips on Carson's neck and sucked hard, wanting to form the biggest hickey of his kissing career, not that Carson wasn't already a human game of Connect the Dots from all their activity in the past week.

"Well," Carson said, gasping at the contact, "I..._ah_...I suppose it would...would..._oh_...it would pay her back for being such a blight on my high school life." Kurt grinned and gave him a playful bite, laving his tongue over the abused skin afterwards and resting his hands in Carson's hair. Across the apartment, he could hear his text message ringtone going off and groaned.

_Fuck, Blaine, give it UP. I'm so not ready to talk to you yet, and even when I do it's gonna be to say goodbye, nothing more._

"That's Beetlejuice, isn't it?" said Carson in an irritated tone. Kurt shrugged.

"Probably," he said. "I'm ignoring it, like I've done for the nine million _other_ messages and phone calls from him." He grabbed Carson's shoulders and rolled them over on the bed so that Carson was now clumsily settled on top of him, one thigh between Kurt's legs. "All I care about right now is that I have the hottest man in the world on top of me," he added, placing one hand on the back of Carson's head and pulling him down into a kiss.

"Mmmph," Carson murmured against his lips, and he shifted so that their groins were touching just right, causing Kurt to moan into his mouth at the sudden friction. This was perfect. He shivered in delight at the feeling when their bare chests touched and trailed his hands down Carson's back, resting them on his pajama-clad ass and squeezing.

"_Ah,"_ Carson moaned, rolling his hips on top of Kurt, and Kurt's eyes practically rolled back in his head as their half hard erections slid against each other at a perfect angle. This had to be what paradise felt like.

"Love you," Carson murmured, and Kurt felt a swooping in his belly at the words, just as he always did now whenever he heard them. Carson really did love him. He could feel just how much, and it was overwhelming. He had no idea what came over him in that moment, but he suddenly really wanted to express his love for Carson in the most physically intimate way possible.

"Carson," he said between gasps as Carson found his favorite spot on his neck and sucked. "Carson, I..._ah_..."

"Mmm, what is it, baby?" Carson asked softly between kisses and sucks. Kurt bit his lip and tried to retain composure long enough to gather the necessary brain function to form words, which was a pretty difficult task, considering most of his blood was flowing to places besides his brain at the moment.

"I..." Kurt began, suddenly feeling shy. _Come on, Kurt, just say it. Say "I want you to make love to me."_

He'd just gathered up the courage to say the words when he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps out in the hallway outside the apartment.

"Shhh," he said, pushing at Carson's shoulders. Carson stopped kissing his neck and looked at him curiously.

"Kurt? What's wrong?"

"Shhh," Kurt repeated, placing one hand over Carson's mouth and listening intently. The footsteps were coming closer to the apartment door. He knew those footsteps. There was only one person in the building who wore heels and would be walking outside the door.

"Fuck," he whispered.

"Kurt?" asked Carson.

"Kurt?" came Rachel's voice from the hallway. "Kurt, you home?"

"Fuck!" hissed Carson, rolling off of Kurt as if he were on fire as the sound of Rachel's key in the lock resounded in the air.

"Under the bed!" whispered Kurt in a panic. "Get under the bed!" Carson did as he was told, diving under the bed as Kurt looked around frantically for his shirt. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, where is it, where is it..._

"Kurt, the door is stuck! Are you in there?" asked Rachel as she rattled on the door. _Oh, thank fuck_, thought Kurt as he finally located his shirt on the living room floor.

"I'm coming, Rachel!" he called, trying to sound like hadn't just been making out with his brother on her bed as he slid the door open.

"Thank god, I was afraid I'd have to wait out in the hallway all night," said Rachel, breezing right past him without even a glance. She headed straight for her room, and Kurt glanced nervously at the bed, where Carson was probably having a heart attack as he lay beneath it.

"Why's my bed all rumpled?" she asked, and Kurt swore his heart skipped several beats as he started stammering, trying to come up with an answer.

"Uh...um...there...there was a...um...there was a mouse," he said, relief flooding through him as he made up a lie on the spot. "Big one. Had to chase it all around the apartment with the broom, and I climbed up on your bed so it wouldn't touch me." Rachel looked at him suspiciously.

"Did you catch it?" she asked.

"Catch what?" asked Kurt.

"The _mouse_," she replied, rolling her eyes as she sat down on her bed. Kurt heard a faint snort coming from under the bed and quickly coughed to cover up the noise.

"Oh! Yeah. The...the mouse. Yeah. Totally caught it. Threw it back outside. Where it can roam free. Roam free with all its little mouse buddies," Kurt babbled, wondering how the hell he was going to get Carson out of Rachel's room without her noticing. "Mickey...Minnie...Mighty...Speedy...Jerry..."

Rachel unzipped the large duffel bag she had been carrying in her hand and started removing items from it, placing them onto the bed as she cleared her throat. "Well, good, because I'm home now. Brody's mysteriously busy this week, and anyway I'm kind of sick of waiting for your brother to leave. No offense."

"None taken," said Kurt, trying desperately _not_ to keep looking at the bed. He had to distract Rachel somehow. "Um..."

"Do we have any tea?" she asked suddenly, getting up from the bed and heading toward the kitchen. Kurt let out a sigh of relief as he followed her, catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Carson quietly sneaking out from under the bed.

"Uh, I'm not sure," he said, sitting down at the table while she rummaged through the cupboards. "Maybe not. I don't remember seeing any."

"Hmm," Rachel mused. "You should buy some next time you go out. There's a NYADA new student mixer going on this week, and if I'm going to sing, I'll need to prepare my voice as much as possible beforehand...what's that?"

"What's what?" asked Kurt.

"That thing on your neck...is that...Kurt Hummel, is that a _hickey_?" Rachel asked with a gasp. Kurt felt himself grow about seventeen shades paler than he already was and swallowed hard.

"_No_," he said.

"Yes it is!" Rachel squealed, peering closely at Kurt's neck despite his efforts to duck away from her sight. "Have you been seeing someone? You and Blaine have only been broken up for a little over a _week_! Who is it? And does Carson know, because I can't _wait_ to see his reaction if he doesn't. He's going to flip, and not in a good way." She sounded a little too happy about that, Kurt thought, although he was relieved as hell that at least she didn't suspect the hickey came from Carson.

"It's _not_ a hickey," Kurt lied. "And I _haven't_ been seeing anyone. I just broke up with Blaine, ok? This is just...I have really sensitive skin, and I guess I used the wrong soap this week. I have to switch. No big deal." Rachel gave him a suspicious look just as Carson emerged from Kurt's bedroom, looking casual like he'd been hanging out in there the entire time. He was wearing one of his hoodies zipped all the way up, probably to hide his own hickeys.

"Trollberry, how nice to see you again!" he said brightly as he took a seat at the table beside Kurt. "Things get boring over at clown school? I see they let you keep the makeup, though. That was nice of them. Although, you'd probably already paid for it, so. You know. Whatever."

Rachel glared at him. "You're still here? Are you ever planning on going home, or should we start charging you rent?"

Carson gave her a cheesy grin. "Of course I am, Trollberry. I have classes in the fall, you know."

"Ok, you are _not_ staying here until the fall," said Rachel, crossing her arms across her chest. "You're a nightmare."

"Looking in the mirror again, are we?" asked Carson sweetly.

"Enough, guys!" Kurt exclaimed, feeling a migraine forming at the thought of the two of them bickering with each other for the foreseeable future. "Carson, _please _be nice, ok? And Rachel, Carson is my brother and I've really missed him, so I want to spend as much time as possible with him before...before he has to go," he said, trailing off a bit as he realized what he'd just said. What were they going to do about their relationship after the summer?

Carson sighed and crossed his own arms. "Fine. I can be nice if she can." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," she mumbled.

"Great," said Kurt, squeezing Carson's hand. "Let's all try to get along, ok?"

"He better keep out of my things," said Rachel irritably.

"Oh, please. Like I would want to touch anything of yours with my bare skin. I might catch Trollitis, or whatever nasty disease your species are carriers of," retorted Carson, seemingly ignoring the fact that he and Kurt had just been making out, shirtless, on Rachel's bed not ten minutes ago. _And would have been going a LOT further if I had been able to ask before Rachel cockblocked us_, thought Kurt bitterly. _A little advance warning would have been awesome._

"You are such an ass," said Rachel.

"You _look_ like one," replied Carson, unruffled.

"Guys!" said Kurt, exasperated. This was going to be one very long summer. He could feel it in his bones. _If they can just manage not to murder each other, we can probably survive. I hope._

Easier said than done. Before Rachel had been home for two hours, she and Carson were already at each other's throats. Although, in Carson's defense, Kurt thought that Rachel had sort of started it.

"Kurt, be a dear and bring me some hot water and lemon," she said as they all sat in the living room watching TV, Kurt resting comfortably with his head in Carson's lap. Before Kurt could answer, Carson turned to look at her as though she had just sprung a second head.

"Excuse you? You have two hands and you're not an invalid. Why don't you get your own goddamn water?" he said irritably. "Is he your servant or something and I just didn't get the memo?"

"Excuse _you_, but Kurt doesn't _usually_ have a problem doing me favors," said Rachel haughtily, looking to Kurt for confirmation. "Right, Kurt?"

"Excuse _you_, Trollberry, but I don't think I even heard you _ask_ or say please," retorted Carson as Kurt opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Do you usually just sit there and order him to do shit like you're some kind of troll princess? Does she?" he repeated, looking down at Kurt.

"Mmm-hmm," said Kurt, snuggling closer to Carson and putting on his best "wounded baby brother" voice to see what would happen. If Carson and Rachel were going to fight anyway, he might as well get some entertainment out of it. "She orders me around _all_ the time. Like Cinderella." Actually, now that he thought about it, Rachel _did_ kind of boss him around a lot. Maybe he'd just never noticed until now because he had always been too distracted by how much he missed Carson. Strange.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Trollberry?" asked Carson.

"I do _not_!" exclaimed Rachel.

"You're damn right you don't," said Carson fiercely. "My boy..._brother_ is not your servant," he said, stammering a little, and Kurt's heart leaped into his throat. _He almost called me his boyfriend, oh god_. "And no, he won't be getting you your stupid water. You can just go get it yourself if you want it that bad."

"Augh," Rachel groaned in exasperation as she got up and huffed off to the kitchen. Kurt craned his neck to look up at Carson in disbelief.

"You almost said boyfriend," he said in a whisper.

"I know," Carson whispered back. "Fuck, that was close. I doubt she would have noticed anyway, even if I had said it. She has her head so far up her own ass, she's leaking out of her nostrils."

Kurt snorted. "You're gross."

"Whatever. It's what she gets for coming home with no warning and cockblocking me," Carson muttered. Kurt smiled and made sure Rachel wasn't looking over at them before reaching up to stroke Carson's cheek lovingly.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said, not sure why he was apologizing. "It's going to be a bitch now that she's home. When are we supposed to...you know?"

Carson's eyes grew wide. "Fuuuuuuck, I didn't even think about that!"

The next twenty-four hours severely tested Kurt's patience, because now that Rachel was around, the inability to kiss Carson (let alone do anything else to him) or otherwise act like a couple drove him practically up a wall. It was weird, because for all the years he'd spent _not_ being in a romantic relationship with Carson, he thought it shouldn't be making him as crazy as it was to not be able to do those things.

_I mean, I spent nineteen years living with him and sleeping in the same bed and managed to not have daily makeout sessions or pin him down and blow him on a whim. I should be able to handle this. Right? I mean, ok, I have work, so that will take up most of the day, and Rachel has to leave the apartment sometime, doesn't she? Maybe she'll go out tonight or something. God, please._

She didn't, though. According to Carson when Kurt called him during his lunch break, she had stayed home for the entire day and had no plans to go out any time soon.

"I'm _dying _over here," Carson whined when he picked up the phone. "Trollberry's been singing all fucking day! I had to go out on the fire escape to get any peace and quiet to hear myself think. That's where I am now. I'm scared to go back in."

"Why don't you just go out?" asked Kurt.

"Honestly, I'm kind of curious how long she's going to keep it up," replied Carson. "How's _your_ day going?"

"Slowly," said Kurt with a sigh. "And tonight's going to suck with Rachel home. We can't do anything fun, if you catch my drift."

"Don't remind me," mumbled Carson.

To make things even worse, literally _everything_ Carson did that morning before Kurt left seemed specifically designed by some cruel asshole demon to turn Kurt on. It didn't matter what his twin was doing. Just the sight of him walking from one end of the apartment to the other was enough to make Kurt sweat, and he practically hyperventilated when Carson bent down in the kitchen to pick up a napkin he had accidentally dropped. _Carson, god, stop showing off your ass, ok? It's torturing me, because I just really want to touch it, and I can't, and you're being a dick by shoving it all up in my face like this. _Carson caught him looking then, and a smile spread across his face as he made a show of standing back up as slowly as possible.

"You're blushing," he mouthed at Kurt after glancing to make sure Rachel wasn't looking.

"Shut up," Kurt mouthed back.

To make a long story very short, Carson's ass had practically been all Kurt thought about the whole day. By the time he got home, he was desperate to just back him up against a wall and suck the air out of his lungs. He was trudging down the hallway toward the apartment door when he felt someone grab his arm and drag him into a nearby alcove. He was prepared to scream bloody murder until he felt soft lips on his own and realized it was just Carson.

"God, I missed you so much," Carson mumbled against his lips, sucking Kurt's bottom lip in between both of his as he pressed him up against the wall with his body.

"Mmm, me too, you have no idea," Kurt whispered, cupping Carson's face with his hands and pressing his tongue up against his lips. Carson opened them immediately, and the desperate hunger inside of Kurt only grew stronger as their tongues slid together delightfully.

"Is she still home?" asked Kurt breathlessly as he broke from the kiss. Carson rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Unfortunately."

"Shit," said Kurt, banging the back of his head against the wall. "It's going to be a long night, isn't it?"

"Yep," replied Carson, nibbling experimentally at the skin on Kurt's jawline. "Very long night. Can't kiss. Can't do _anything_, unless we wait for Trollberry to go to bed. And I'm pretty sure she's a vampire who requires no sleep and stays up all night plotting ways to be an annoying pain in the ass."

"Better make this last, then," Kurt panted as he planted his lips back on Carson's in a desperate, rough kiss, and he _really_ wished Carson wouldn't moan like that, because the very last thing he needed right now was a raging erection.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them straightened their clothes and hair, and Kurt made sure his work scarf was arranged just right to avoid showing any of his fresh hickeys before he slid open the door to the apartment and entered, Carson following closely behind.

"Kurt, good, you're home," said Rachel, rushing up to him and grabbing his hand. "Here, sit down. I want you to listen to the four songs I've narrowed my choices down to for that NYADA mixer, because I'm positive that I'll be asked to sing, and of course I want to make an astounding first impression. I want people to remember the name Rachel Berry."

"They'll remember it, alright," mumbled Carson. "It'll be on the posters they post on the door after you leave, with your photo and the words "Do not let this girl on the premises" in bold print on the bottom.

"_Anyway_," Rachel continued, glaring at Carson. "Kurt, I need for you to listen and tell me if I'm just good, or if I'm brilliant. Ok?"

Kurt gave her a tight smile as he caught a glimpse of Carson peeling a banana out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, Rachel. Sure," he replied, glaring as Carson swirled his tongue around the tip of the banana with a cheeky grin and a wink. _Carson, I'm going to have my revenge on you, I swear to god. _He thought he was seriously going to die as he sat through all four songs Rachel had picked, saying all the right compliments in all the right places when all he could really concentrate on was Carson, who was practically fellating that banana like it was his job or something. He was growing more and more uncomfortable in his pants the longer it went on, and he was never more grateful for anything than when Rachel finally stopped singing and he could escape to the bedroom to put on his pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. At least now there was room in his pants.

He tried desperately not to think sexy thoughts as he sat eating dinner, even though Carson was making it difficult just by sitting there breathing across from him. _Why does his chest have to heave so much when he breathes? Come on. This is so not even fair._ He made a valiant effort, though, and by the time he was settled on the couch with Carson, wrapped together in a blanket watching TV while Rachel sat nearby in her favorite chair, he thought he pretty much had his libido under control.

Unfortunately, Carson chose that moment to be a complete asshole and start rubbing slowly at Kurt's thigh under the blanket.

"Carson," Kurt hissed as he glanced frantically over at Rachel, who was absorbed in what was happening on the screen and, mercifully, wasn't looking over at them. "What are you doing?"

"Shhhh," Carson said with a completely straight face, never turning his attention away from the TV as his fingers inched closer to where Kurt really wanted them and yet didn't at the same time, because _hello, _Rachel was sitting right there. He considered stopping him, but before he could reach a decision, Carson's hand brushed over his hardening dick, and that pretty much short-circuited his brain. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips at the contact, and he bit his lip to keep it from happening again as Rachel looked over at him curiously.

"You ok, Kurt?" she asked. "You're all red."

"Fine," Kurt squeaked as Carson's fingers enclosed over his clothed dick and squeezed gently. "Just...little warm in heee_eeeere_," he said, struggling not to gasp as Carson started massaging him through his pants, his twin's eyes dancing with merriment on his otherwise neutral poker face. _Carson, I swear to god, I will murder you and bury you in the backyard the next time I'm in Lima, you little shit...fuck_. Every touch of Carson's fingers was like fire, and Kurt was having a very hard time concentrating on keeping his face relaxed, because it felt so damn good.

"Ah," he breathed as Carson circled his finger teasingly over his tip, and Rachel looked over again, frowning.

"Are you sure you're not sick or something, Kurt?" she asked, and to Kurt's horror, got up from her chair, her hand poised as though she were going to feel his forehead.

"Fine!" exclaimed Kurt as Carson's fingers left his dick in a hurry. "Just, um...I...I think I'll go to bed. What about you, _Carson_?" he asked pointedly as he got up from the couch with the blanket still wrapped around him to hide his boner.

"I guess I'll-" Carson began, but Kurt grabbed his hand and dragged him toward his bedroom, practically shoving him inside and drawing the privacy curtain closed as Rachel looked on curiously.

"I'm going to _kill you_," Kurt hissed, dropping the blanket to the ground and practically tackling Carson onto the bed, straddling him. "She was looking! What if she had noticed?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I was being a d-" Kurt didn't let Carson finish, just attacked his lips in a rough, bruising kiss as he rolled his hips, grinding down on Carson's as torturously slow as he could while Carson's hands rested on his waist.

"Enjoying this, are we?" whispered Kurt, smiling to himself as he felt Carson harden beneath him, creating some delicious friction, since Kurt's hard-on hadn't wilted any since he fled the living room. Carson nodded eagerly, and Kurt took both of his hands and pinned them above his head as he continued grinding down on him.

"Well, too bad, honey. You don't get to get off until Rachel goes to bed," he whispered, kissing Carson again and gradually decreasing the speed of his hips until they stilled altogether and Carson let out a pathetic whine.

"Kuuuurt," he whimpered, thrusting up and looking for friction. "Come ooooon." Kurt gave him an evil smile.

"This is my revenge for your antics out in the living room," he said before placing his lips in the hollow of Carson's throat and lazily sucking as Carson squirmed and moaned beneath him.

"You might want to stay quiet, hon," Kurt murmured against his skin. Carson bit his lip and closed his eyes, throwing his head back to give Kurt better access to his throat. "Lucky for you," Kurt continued, nipping small bites into the sensitive skin every few words, "Rachel always goes to bed at ten, like clockwork. Says she needs nine hours exactly of sleep to rest her vocal chords." He glanced at the clock beside the bed. "Twenty more minutes, and then the suffering can end for both of us."

Carson groaned and Kurt put his free hand over his mouth. "Uh-uh. Shhhh," he admonished him. He continued lazily kissing and sucking at Carson's neck until there was movement out in the living room and he heard Rachel shuffle into her bedroom and draw her curtain closed. _Thank god, I was going to die waiting any longer._

"Play time!" he hissed happily, kissing Carson on the lips once more before hooking his fingers into the hem of his T-shirt and removing it, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He quickly threw off his own shirt and leaned back down to kiss Carson hungrily, his tongue darting out to explore as he snaked one hand onto Carson's chest and gently tweaked one nipple.

"Hrrrng," Carson groaned into his mouth, and Kurt smiled, snaking his way down his twin's body until he reached the top of his pajama pants. He'd settled himself between Carson's legs and was about to pull the pants down when a painful throb between his own legs reminded him that his own dick was still hard. And suddenly, he had an idea.

"Take your pants off," he whispered, sitting up on the bed and starting to remove his own. Carson looked at him in a curious daze for a moment before he obeyed, sliding off his pants and tossing them onto the floor to join their shirts.

"Ok, now scoot down the bed a little," Kurt instructed, patting the bed to illustrate his point. "Lay down on your side, ok?"

"Ok, but what are we doing?" asked Carson as he followed orders, laying down on his side and propping his head up with one hand. "_Oh_," he whispered in sudden understanding as Kurt situated himself on his own side, maneuvering himself so that his head was facing Carson's dick, exposing his own to Carson's eager eyes. "Oh _god_," Carson whispered, sucking in a breath.

"Hey, at least this way we both have to be quiet," said Kurt, wasting no time taking Carson's erection in his hand and giving it a few warm-up strokes.

"Kurt, I..." Carson began, trailing off, and Kurt felt his hands gently caressing his thigh. "I don't.."

"We don't have to if you're not comfortable," said Kurt, slowing down the speed of his hand on Carson's length. "We can just take turns if..._oh god_!" His hand flew to his mouth to keep in the moans as he felt Carson's lips close around the tip of his dick, sucking gently, and he lay there in shock for several seconds before he realized he had Carson's dick still in his hand. He shifted a little and brought his face closer to it, wrapping his lips around it and twirling his tongue around teasingly the way he knew drove Carson wild. Carson moaned, and the vibrations around Kurt's dick almost made him scream.

_Thank god there's a dick in my mouth and it wouldn't be loud enough to alert Rachel_, Kurt thought as he went to work on Carson. He'd never actually tried doing this before, not even with Blaine, and the sensation of a warm, wet mouth around him was a little bit weird while he was feeling the pleasant weight of a dick on his tongue at the same time. It took a little getting used to, especially because he couldn't fit as much of Carson in his mouth in this position as he usually could. Not to mention that this was seriously testing his multitasking skills. Neither one of them were doing too badly, though, he thought as they went to town on each other. He felt Carson's hand on his ass, stroking gently, and moaned around the erection in his mouth as Carson popped off briefly, sucking one of Kurt's balls into his mouth instead.

"Mmm," Kurt moaned, and he heard Carson gasp out a breath before there was a hand back on his dick and the warmth of his mouth was back to enveloping him. It was overwhelming, so much sensation at either end, and Kurt decided that this was definitely a turn-on.

_We're so going to have to practice this some more. I want to get good at this so we can do it all the time,_ he thought as he gave a particularly hard suck to Carson's length. The sound of Carson's scream of pleasure was extremely audible, even suppressed by Kurt in his mouth, and Kurt froze, horrified as they heard Rachel throwing back her curtain, taking a few cautious footsteps outside her bedroom.

"Kurt?" her voice called out. "Is everything ok in there?"

_Shit, shit, shit, what do I do, what do I do_, thought Kurt in a panic. Carson had stopped doing anything, either. Kurt was sure if someone could see them right now, the sight would be comical, the two of them laying there stock still with each other's dicks in their mouths, both of their eyes probably wide open in panic. Kurt knew his own were.

"Kurt?" asked Rachel, her footsteps inching closer to their drawn privacy curtain. Kurt worked up all the courage he could muster and removed his mouth from Carson, taking a deep breath and hoping his voice wasn't too hoarse.

"Everything's fine, Rachel!" he called, surprised by how calm he sounded even though he was scared shitless that she was going to come closer and open the curtain, scarring all three of them psychologically for life. "Carson was just...having a nightmare," he finished lamely, and he heard Carson suppress a snort.

"Shhh," he admonished him, feeling the urge to giggle creeping up on him, and he so did not need that right now.

"Oh," said Rachel. "Well, my level of caring suddenly just dropped right down to negative zero."

"Hey, Trollberry, that was a good one!" exclaimed Carson. "You're learning so much from me! I'm...well...not _proud_, exactly, but...you know."

"Ugh, whatever," muttered Rachel, and Kurt sighed in relief as he heard her footsteps walking back to her own room. He rested his head against Carson's thigh for a second to gather his wits and regain his normal heart rate. He was pretty sure that close call had almost given him a heart attack.

"What the hell is so funny?" he hissed as he heard Carson letting out quiet giggles.

"I'm..._haha_...I'm sorry," Carson squeaked, his shoulders shaking with laughter as Kurt craned his neck to look at him. "I can't...I..." He buried his face in Kurt's thigh and dissolved into giggles and snorts, and apparently it was contagious, because Kurt suddenly started doing the same and couldn't stop.

"It's not funny," he protested between hiccups. "It...it..." He couldn't finish his sentence without laughing. Carson let out a loud snort.

"If she...can you imagine?" he asked, the bed shaking now with the combined tremors of the both of them having a giggle fit.

"The scars would never heal," said Kurt with a grin as he sat up and wiped the tears out of his eyes. "Oh my god, and what would we have _said_?"

"I don't know, man," said Carson, his giggles slowly fading away but the grin on his face remaining. "We'd have been so fucking screwed."

"Yeah, and not in the good way," said Kurt, taking several deep breaths to regain his composure. He looked at Carson and then down at his pretty much wilted erection, sneaking a glance between Carson's legs to discover that he wasn't all that hard anymore, either.

"We should probably call this a fail, huh?" he asked, and Carson nodded.

"Yeah," he said sadly. "Too bad. Fucking Rachel." He got up from the bed and reached for their discarded clothes, handing Kurt his as he put his own back on. "Can't sleep naked," he said as he pulled his pajama bottoms up.

"Nope," said Kurt sadly, getting dressed quickly and pulling the bed covers down, sliding between the sheets as Carson climbed in beside him. He held his arms out and Kurt accepted the invitation, letting Carson hold him as he rested his head on his twin's chest.

"We'll have to try that again when we have the place to ourselves," Kurt said with a yawn, and he felt Carson's arms around him tighten protectively.

"Mmm, yes," said Carson, planting a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "It was fun while it lasted."

The buzzing of Kurt's phone broke into his thoughts and he regretfully rolled away from Carson in order to look on the nightstand. A call from Blaine was lighting up the screen."

"Ugh, go awaaaay," Kurt whined, positioning himself back into Carson's arms.

"Billy?" asked Carson, his voice indicating he knew the answer already.

"Yep," muttered Kurt. "But screw him." He cuddled close to Carson and kissed him gently on the chest. "I love you, Carsey."

"Love you too, Kurtsie," answered Carson, kissing the top of Kurt's hair and sighing happily. "Go to sleep."

* * *

If the next few days proved anything to Carson, it was that, if it came down to it, he decided he could feasibly be capable of murder. Trying to be in a romantic relationship with Kurt while Rachel was constantly hanging around was a gigantic pain in the ass, and it was really starting to get to him. She was just always _there_. He and Kurt couldn't even manage to snag a few minutes of privacy to kiss without her being all up in their business. He was honestly surprised that he had made it this long without filling the bathtub and holding her head under the water until the bubbles stopped, especially since he and Kurt hadn't been brave enough to try anything sexual since the night of the failed sixty-nine. If Carson had thought he was sexually frustrated _before_ he and Kurt got together, that was fucking nothing compared to how he felt now that he knew exactly what he was missing. And the fact that he was suffering having to listen to Rachel practice her scales every morning, combined with the fact that his mouth practically watered at the thought of all the blowjobs he could be giving Kurt, was making him even bitchier than normal.

Thankfully, she had _finally_ gone out one night on a date with her new boyfriend, and Kurt had wasted no time before grabbing Carson by the neck of his T-shirt and dragging him into the bedroom. Carson was happily remembering what happened as he slowly opened his eyes the following morning and smiled down at the sleeping Kurt in his arms. It had been all too brief, and hadn't covered any new ground, really, but it had been fun, and Carson had remembered feeling so in love that he thought his heart would break from how full it was. He wanted more than anything to take the final step with Kurt. He wanted to make love to him and show him just how much he worshiped him and cherished him, but he was going to be patient. There was no need to rush that, and he didn't want Kurt to feel pressured at all, especially after all the bullshit with Blaine.

_When he's ready_, Carson decided. _He'll tell me when he's ready, I'm sure. And then...then it will be beautiful. I hope. Knowing my luck, I'll do something wrong and end up disappointing him. _He kissed Kurt on the nose, and Kurt wrinkled his face up and let out a small snuffle as he buried his face in Carson's chest.

_Angel_, he thought fondly, holding him close and enjoying the feel of their skin pressed together. There were certain advantages to hot weather, he decided, and sleeping shirtless was definitely one.

"Mmmph," mumbled Kurt, stirring in Carson's arms, his breath hot against his skin. "Morning."

"Morning," whispered Carson.

"Too early to get up," said Kurt, his voice muffled.

"Then don't."

"Have to. Work."

Carson stroked his arms and looked down at him. "Should I get breakfast then while you shower and stuff?"

"That'd be awesome," murmured Kurt. "You spoil me."

"I enjoy doing it," said Carson as Kurt slowly stretched out and sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking as he looked around the room. Carson thought he looked his most beautiful when he first woke up in the morning, before he had done any primping, his hair sticking up in all directions and his clothes (just pants at the moment, but still) rumpled from sleep.

"You're beautiful," said Carson, and Kurt snorted.

"Not yet I'm not. I look awful," he said with a yawn. "I'll be beautiful in like thirty minutes."

"Nope," said Carson. "You're beautiful now."

"Like I said," said Kurt, standing up and stretching. "You spoil me." He leaned down to kiss Carson tenderly on the lips, and Carson watched him pull his shirt on and head off toward the bathroom, enjoying the butterflies in his stomach for a minute before he got out of bed himself, stretched, and headed out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. He hoped Rachel was still sleeping. He so did _not_ want to deal with her so early in the morning.

He reached the kitchen and saw, to his dismay, that Rachel must be up after all, because the refrigerator door was open and someone was rooting around in it. Carson steeled himself for another morning of exchanging verbal barbs. Not that he minded, really. He figured it kept his mind sharp.

"If you're looking for a lemon to suck on to achieve that sour look you constantly have on your face, we don't have any," Carson quipped. The person behind the fridge froze in their movements.

"Huh?" said a voice that was decidedly too male to be Rachel's, and the fridge door closed to reveal that it was not, in fact, Rachel behind it, but some guy. Some _shirtless_ guy dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that Carson was sure he would have nightmares about if he focused on them too much.

"Aaaah, what the fuck?" he exclaimed, startled to see a strange guy in the middle of the apartment. "Who the hell are you?"

"Calm down, dude," the guy said, holding his hands up in as a show of peace. "I'm just here for Rachel."

"Brody?" said Rachel as she hurried out of her bedroom in a bathrobe, pulling her hair back with an elastic band as she spoke. "Everything ok...oh. I should have known," she said as her eyes landed on Carson. "I see you've met my roommate's annoying brother."

"Bite me, Trollberry," snapped Carson. "Excuse me for being a little startled when I walk into the kitchen and see the male prostitute you paid for the night rummaging through the fridge."

"He's not a prostitute, you asshole, he's my boyfriend," snapped Rachel, and Carson thought Brody looked just a tad uncomfortable as he watched the exchange happening before him. "Why are you even still here, anyway? You have an apartment in Chicago. _Use it_."

"What is going _on_ out here?" exclaimed Kurt as he came out of the bathroom. "What's all the yelling? Hi, Brody," he said, addressing the shirtless guy, who waved and nodded.

"You know this guy?" asked Carson.

"Uuuh, yeah? He's been here a bunch of times since we moved here," Kurt said with a shrug. "What's all the yelling about?"

Carson sighed. "It's nothing, Kurtsie. Go take your shower, ok?" He turned his gaze to Brody and narrowed his eyes as he looked him up and down, feeling territorial for some reason now that there was a shirtless guy within feet of Kurt. "And you...put a shirt on, ok? My innocent baby brother is right there."

"I hate your brother, Kurt," said Rachel, and Kurt rolled his eyes, looping his arm through Carson's and guiding him back toward the bedroom.

"Innocent, huh?" asked Kurt, clearly amused as he drew the privacy curtain. "Am I remembering wrong, or were these lips _not_ wrapped around your dick last night?" Carson choked and Kurt raised a saucy eyebrow.

"Yeah, I just...the guy surprised me," he said as Kurt wrapped his arms around him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Let's just leave them, ok?" he said, stroking Carson's cheek. "If we leave early enough, we can get breakfast out together before I have to be at work."

"Ok," said Carson, smiling and kissing him back. Kurt patted him on the head before heading back in the direction of the bathroom, and Carson slowly got dressed, looking forward feverishly to spending some time alone with his love.

Carson ended up spending most of the day at the local library reading old copies of _People_ magazine. He wasn't sure if Rachel and Brody were planning to be at home all day, and he definitely didn't want to be there if they were going to be doing more of what they clearly had been doing last night. He wasn't sure he would ever stop vomiting if he had to listen to Rachel Berry having sex. He stopped by the post office on his way home, gathering the mail at Kurt's request, and his heart sank as he discovered a small, square package inside, addressed to Kurt from Blaine. There were heart stickers adorning the outside wrapping, and a happy face with "I Luv U" scrawled beneath it in one corner.

_Fucking asshole_, Carson thought bitterly as he drove back to the apartment building. _What does Kurt have to do to get you to leave him alone?_ He parked across the street, gathered the mail in one hand and resisting the urge to toss the package in the middle of the road for a car to run over. To his relief, he discovered a completely empty apartment when he slid open the door, tossing the mail onto the kitchen table and flopping sadly onto the couch to sulk for a minute. He always felt down whenever Blaine made his presence known. He allowed himself a few minutes of anger, then busied himself getting something together for dinner for when Kurt got home, deciding on macaroni and cheese, since they were low on groceries again.

"Hi, Carsey," said Kurt cheerfully as he entered the apartment just as Carson was turning the stove off. "How's life?"

"Well, since Rachel isn't home, life is pretty good," answered Carson with a smile as he spooned macaroni into two bowls. "We should enjoy the silence, it may never come again. Mail's on the table," he added, nodding toward the pile, and watching Kurt carefully as his twin picked up the package from Blaine.

"I wish he would stop sending me things," Kurt said with a sigh, his face falling as he carefully handled the package. "You would think the fact that I've been ignoring him since the cheating would give him a clue and let him know that I don't _want _anything." He tossed the box carelessly back on the table and shook his head. "I'll send it back tomorrow, whatever it is. Now, is that macaroni I smell?"

They ate together on the couch in front of the TV, enjoying the Rachel-free atmosphere, and Carson smiled as Kurt gathered up their bowls when they had finished.

"You spoil me too much, so now I'm doing these dishes, and you will _not_ stop me," he said with a wink, shaking his head as Carson opened his mouth to protest. "Don't want to hear it, baby. Sit. Relax." He carried the bowls into the kitchen and began washing them in the sink while Carson stretched out on the couch, his chin in his hands as he watched and marveled at how much he could love Kurt, even when he thought it was impossible to love him any more than he already did. He was about to suggest watching a movie in the bedroom as Kurt finished drying his hands, when the unmistakable sound of Rachel's footsteps echoed outside in the hallway.

"Oh god, it's her," Kurt groaned, drying his hands quickly and rushing over to Carson, grabbing him by the hand. "Come with me. Take the couch blanket with you." Carson did as instructed and allowed Kurt to lead him out the window to the fire escape. They got there just in time. Carson heard Rachel sliding the door open as he sat down against the railing, wrapping the blanket around himself and holding his arms out for Kurt to join him.

"Don't mind if I do," said Kurt with a smile, settling himself carefully on Carson's lap so that his pants weren't actually touching the concrete and resting his head against Carson's shoulder as Carson wrapped his blanket-clad arms around him. It was cozy, in a way. He looked up at the sky and sighed.

"Look at the stars," he said. Kurt followed his gaze and frowned.

"Um, Carsey? There aren't any stars. I mean, you know...there _are_, but...they're kind of invisible here in the city," he pointed out.

"Hmmm," Carson mused. "Well, there's a star in my arms right now. That's the important thing. Especially since it's the brightest and most beautiful." A heart melting smile spread across Kurt's face, and Carson's stomach flipped as his twin leaned in to kiss him deeply.

"I never would have pegged you for such a romantic," he whispered.

"I'm full of surprises," said Carson, holding him tighter and kissing him again. Kurt deepened the kiss, sucking slightly on Carson's bottom lip, and Carson shivered even though it wasn't _that_ cold out.

"Believe me, I'm not complaining," said Kurt, reaching up one hand to stroke Carson's cheek. He settled down, resting his head on Carson's chest and letting out a contented sigh, and Carson felt overwhelmed by how fucking lucky he felt right then, holding the man he loved in his arms and feeling on top of the world.

"Carsey?" asked Kurt after several minutes of peaceful silence. "Can...can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we going to do?" asked Kurt in a small voice, and Carson felt his hand reaching for his own, their fingers automatically intertwining.

"What do you mean?" asked Carson, confused.

"I mean...about us. After the summer," said Kurt. "You're going to have to go back to Chicago for school, and I'm going to be here, and I...I don't really want us to be a long distance relationship. I don't want to be away from you for so long. I was sort of thinking...maybe I could move to Chicago with you."

Carson sucked in a breath. He'd known they would have to discuss this eventually, but he had been hoping to put it off for a little bit longer. He didn't like thinking of them being a long distance relationship, either, and the thought of having Kurt with him in Chicago was certainly appealing, but he would feel awful if Kurt gave up New York for him. That much he knew for sure.

"What about _Vogue_?" he asked.

"What about it?" replied Kurt. "I don't care. I really don't. I just want to be with you."

Carson shook his head. "No...Kurt, no, baby. No. I can't let you do that. _Vogue_ is a wonderful opportunity for you, sweetheart. A very rare opportunity. It could be the ticket to your future, and I won't let you throw that away for me."

"But I don't want to be apart from you," said Kurt sadly. "I'll _die_ if I have to go a whole school year barely seeing you except on the internet."

Carson was silent for a minute, turning over the possibilities in his mind. He didn't want to be away from Kurt for so long, either. He already knew he had a hard time being without him, and that was before they were even dating. It would probably be twice as hard now. And as he thought about it, he wondered if it was really so important for him to get his education at Northwestern, after all. It was just a school, at the end of the day. Schools were plentiful. And maybe what he thought he wanted as a kid wasn't really what he wanted now.

"I'll transfer," he blurted out. Kurt looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

"What?"

"I'll transfer," Carson repeated. "I mean, I can't do it _now_, but I can do it in the spring."

Kurt shook his head. "Carson, _no_. Northwestern has been your dream since, like, forever, ok? If you won't let me give up _Vogue_, I'm not going to let you give up your dream school."

"No, Kurt, listen," Carson protested. "You're more important to me now than Northwestern. Ok? It's just a school. There are schools everywhere. I'm not going to go four years being apart from you. I refuse. I can go to school here, and my education will be just as good. Maybe even better. Ok?"

"But.." Kurt started to say, but Carson brought one finger up to gently press against his lips, silencing him.

"Kurtsie, please. Don't try to talk me out of this, ok, baby? My mind is made up. I can go to school anywhere, but _Vogue_ is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you," he said, feeling more and more confident in his decision the more he thought about it. It was perfect, really.

Kurt sighed. "It's useless to argue with you, and I think you're making a _huge _mistake, but...ok."

"Ok?" asked Carson, beginning to smile.

"Ok," repeated Kurt, giving him a small smile in return. "But really, are you _sure_ you want to do this? You worked so hard to get into that school, and I'll feel like an ass if you-"

"Kurt," said Carson. "I'm _not_ letting you give up _Vogue_, ok? What's wrong with NYU?"

"Nothing, I guess," mused Kurt. "So, at most we'll be apart for...what? Six months?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah. Not looking forward to that. But I will call and text you every day. I'll be more obnoxious than when we weren't dating, and I'll worry much more."

Kurt snorted. "Oh god, should I just buy a plastic protection bubble for when we're apart so you can rest your mind?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Carson mused, and Kurt gave him a playful swat on the arm.

"You're too much, Carsey."

"Yeah," agreed Carson, leaning in to kiss him. "But I'm yours, and you're going to be stuck with me for a long time."

"Somehow, I'm ok with that," said Kurt softly, their lips meeting in another soft kiss as the moon rose high in the sky above them.


	25. Chapter 25

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys! It's been a busy week, but we've finally finished this chapter. As usual, we'd like to say that we love all of you, and reading your reactions to each new chapter is the best part for us. We hope you like this new chapter just as much as all the others. Happy reading!**

"So, serious question," said Carson as he and Kurt cuddled together in Kurt's bed, moonlight (or maybe just regular city lights) streaming through the window as the laptop perched carefully on Carson's lap played one of the _Twilight_ movies (Carson couldn't remember which one, only that Kurt had suggested watching it and he had reluctantly agreed. _The things I do for you, Kurtsie_). Kurt tore his eyes away from the screen and looked up at Carson, resting his chin on his chest.

"What's up?" he asked. The light source coming through the window, whatever it was, illuminated his face perfectly, and he looked the very picture of an angel as he stared up at Carson with wide, sparkling eyes. _God, I love him so much_.

"What's that werewolf guy have that I don't?" asked Carson, only half kidding. Kurt gave him an amused look, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up into a smile.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Sort of," answered Carson. "You've been drooling over him for the past hour, and I'm just trying to assess the competition, you know. Is it the abs?"

"Oh my god, Carson," said Kurt with a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You're so adorable when you're jealous, you know that?"

"So you've said," replied Carson with a pout. "Seriously, what's he got that I don't?"

"Hmmm," said Kurt thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling as though he were really thinking it over. "A million dollars?"

"Ooooh, it's about the money _and_ the abs," said Carson teasingly, crossing his arms and giving his best impression of a pout, even though he knew it looked ridiculous and not at all adorable like Kurt's. "I see how it is."

"Oh, honey, I'm joking," said Kurt reassuringly, patting Carson affectionately on the arm. "I love you, and only you. And besides, you _have_ abs. Nice ones. And I can think of at least _one_ thing you have that he or any other guy doesn't."

"Oh?" asked Carson. "What's that?"

"My heart," replied Kurt with a smile, leaning his face in for a kiss. Carson closed his eyes, letting the feel of their lips sliding together envelop his senses.

"I guess that's a pretty big thing," he said as they parted from the kiss. Kurt nodded.

"The biggest. I don't give that away to just anyone, you know," he said, reaching up one hand to stroke Carson's cheek. "You should feel honored."

"I do," replied Carson, leaning in for another kiss. "Honored and privileged, and the luckiest guy in the world." He kissed him deeper and Kurt closed the laptop, sloppily setting it down on his bedside table before cupping Carson's face in both hands and kissing him hungrily. Carson darted his tongue out to taste along Kurt's bottom lip, and was too busy marveling at how strawberry lip balm tasted a lot better than it probably should to notice that Kurt had settled himself against the pillows and was pulling Carson on top of him, their heated bodies touching skin to skin. Carson loved the feeling. He didn't think he'd ever get over just how intoxicating it was.

"Mmmph," Carson mumbled against Kurt's lips. "Now you're just trying to butter me up."

"Is it working?" asked Kurt cheekily, nibbling a little on Carson's bottom lip, and _fuck, he knows that drives me nuts, he's such a tease but god I love him..._

"Just a bit," Carson replied before deepening the kiss, which was growing increasingly rough and desperate, more tongue and teeth than anything else. He felt Kurt's hands running up and down the skin of his bare back, and as Carson moved his lips down to his neck to start suckling at Kurt's favorite spot below his ear, he felt Kurt's nails digging into his skin as his twin let out a gasp.

"Like that?" whispered Carson as he mouthed at the skin, and Kurt whined and threw his head back to give Carson better access.

"I want to do it," he said in a gasping whisper after a minute, and Carson paused his ministrations to look at him curiously.

"Do what, baby?" he asked. Kurt bit his lip, looking suddenly shy.

"I...I want..." he stammered, and even though the room was dim Carson could see his face beginning to flush.

"Kurtsie? What is it, honey?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "Are you ok?"

"I want to make love," Kurt blurted out in a rush, his face blushing the color of a boiled beet as Carson gaped at him, trying to decide if he'd heard what he _thought_ he'd just heard.

"I...you do?" he asked stupidly, a million thoughts rushing around in his brain all at once. _He wants to...he...he WANTS to? Oh god, this is literally everything I've been dreaming of. What do I do? What do I SAY? I don't want to say the wrong thing and...fuck...what..._

"Yeah," said Kurt slowly, an odd expression crossing his face. "Don't...don't you?" he asked uncertainly.

"What?" asked Carson, still trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not.

"Oh god," said Kurt, frowning. "You don't want to, do you? You're not ready. Oh my god, I should have realized when you never...never asked...and I'm so sorry..."

_Great, Carson, now he thinks you're rejecting him. Way to make yourself look like a complete asshole._

"Kurt, no!" he said, finally gathering up the brain function that had been eluding him. "No, baby, that's not it at all!"

Kurt looked only temporarily relieved before frowning again. "But don't you want to...?" he asked, trailing off before finishing the question. "I mean, we don't _have_ to, but..."

"Kurtsie, I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to, sweetheart," said Carson in a rush, placing a hand on the mattress on either side of Kurt to hold himself up. "I really, really do. I just...I haven't been pushing for it because I didn't want _you_ to feel rushed, or like you were being pressured, especially after all the bullshit you've been through with Benson. I didn't want it to be that way for you this time."

Kurt's face relaxed considerably at this, and Carson felt a rush of relief go through his body. He hated making Kurt feel bad for any reason, especially over a stupid misunderstanding like this.

"Oh god, Carson, I don't feel rushed at _all_. I've been wanting us to take that step forever. For _years_," he said, a smile beginning to form on his lips as he ran his hands up and down Carson's arms.

"Years, huh?" said Carson, feeling himself returning Kurt's smile as he looked down at him, at this beautiful man whom he loved more than life itself. The same beautiful man who he still had a hard time believing had chosen him.

"Yes," said Kurt with a little laugh. "I want us to give ourselves to each other completely. You know? I love you so much, and I just want to be as close to you as possible."

Carson leaned back down to catch Kurt's lips in a soft kiss, brushing a stray hair out of his twin's eyes as he looked into them, searching for confirmation that this wasn't a huge, cruel hallucination.

"Are you sure, Kurtsie?"

Kurt nodded. _There it is. There's the confirmation in his eyes. Oh god._ "I'm positive, Carsey."

Carson crashed their lips together like his life depended on it, kissing him in a frenzied tangle of lips and tongues and hands pawing at each other, reaching for whatever parts of each other they could. Carson's knee slipped in between Kurt's legs, and he felt Kurt shiver and begin to harden beneath him as his twin moaned into the kiss.

"Ku.._mmmph_...Kurt..." Carson mumbled between kisses as a troubling thought occurred to him.

"Yeah?" said Kurt softly, breaking from the kiss to look at him.

"I just remembered that Rachel's home."

Kurt let out a frustrated sigh. "So?"

"What do you mean _so_?" asked Carson, appalled. "She's _home_. If we do anything right now, we run a really high risk of getting caught."

"I don't care," said Kurt with a soft whine. "She's sleeping, anyway."

"Kurtsie, come on. Think about it," said Carson, rolling gently off of him and laying beside him, bringing up one hand to stroke through Kurt's hair. "Do you really want our first time to be quiet and rushed while Trollberry is ten feet away? I certainly don't."

Kurt bit his lip, looking thoughtful.

"And," Carson continued, "If we're going to do this, I want us to do it _right_. You know, really take our time and enjoy it. Savor every moment. It's not just my first time with you, it's my first time _ever_. And I want it to be beautiful and romantic for both of us, baby."

Kurt gave him a small smile and nodded. "You're right," he said, leaning in to give Carson a kiss on the cheek. "We should wait until we can be alone. What, um...what about Friday?"

"Friday?" asked Carson, confused.

"Yeah," said Kurt. "Rachel has that NYADA new student mixer thing that night, and she'll probably be gone for a long time if she hangs out with Brody afterwards. We could...we could do it then?" he said, phrasing it as a question. Carson smiled and nodded.

"Friday," he agreed, trailing a hand lazily down Kurt's chest and leaning in for one more kiss. _Kurtsie, I hope you can feel how much I love you, baby. _He snuggled close to Kurt and soon fell asleep, dreaming of a wedding cake that featured two identical little grooms on the top.

He woke several hours later, the room still dark and shadowy as he slowly blinked his eyes open. The squirming bundle of Kurt in his arms alerted him to what exactly had woken him up, and he was just about to begin trying to sooth Kurt from what he assumed was a nightmare, when a breathy little moan echoed throughout the room.

_Ah. Definitely not a nightmare then. Fuck, what do I do, though? If he moans like THAT enough, Trollberry could wake up, and that would just be embarrassing for everybody. _He watched, fascinated and extremely turned on, as Kurt wiggled around in his arms, his pajama pants tented and his hips unconsciously thrusting into thin air.

"Ah...ah...mmm...Car-carson..." Kurt babbled in his sleep, and Carson felt his whole body heating up at the sudden realization that Kurt was most definitely dreaming about him. It occurred to him that this was the first time since they had been together that he had been woken up with one of Kurt's sex dreams, and the fact that he was apparently _causing_ it was a pretty intoxicating thought indeed.

_I wonder if I could help him along a little,_ Carson mused as he slowly removed himself from Kurt and sat up in the bed, staring down at him reverently. Even in the middle of a sex dream, Kurt managed to look like an angel. Not that Carson was a bit surprised.

"Carsey," Kurt moaned, and that settled it. Carson maneuvered himself into a comfortable position and leaned his head down, placing a soft, feather-light kiss on Kurt's collarbone. Kurt let out a happy sigh in his sleep, and Carson smiled as he worked his way down Kurt's chest, bypassing his nipples because he wasn't sure what kind of moan that would produce, and the last thing he needed was for Rachel to wake up. He kissed down Kurt's stomach and then hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pajama pants, carefully pulling them down over Kurt's swollen erection and taking them off, placing them neatly off to the side. Kurt was protective about his clothes, even sleeping clothes. Most of the time, anyway.

He peered at Kurt's stiffened dick, biting his lip at how tantalizingly delicious it looked. _Patience, Carson. You can taste it in a minute._ He gingerly reached out one hand and gave Kurt a few gentle strokes, and Kurt's breath hitched in his throat before he let out a sexy little whine.

_God, Kurt, you're going to be the death of me_, he thought as he continued stroking him, twisting his wrist just the right way on every upstroke the way he knew Kurt liked. Kurt's breath was getting increasingly gaspy and shallow, and his dick was pulsating satisfyingly in Carson's hand. He gave him several more strokes, intending to lean down and finish him off with his mouth, but he didn't get the chance, because Kurt let out a moan and came right then, spilling all over Carson's hand and his own stomach. He sighed and lay there, relaxed and pliant, as Carson blinked in surprise, ignoring the tightening in his own pants as he removed his hand from Kurt and held it up to inspect it.

_What have I turned into_? he thought to himself as he pushed his fingers into his mouth, sucking all of Kurt's essence off of them and swallowing it eagerly. _I'm one of those weird porno people now, apparently. Who am I?_ He licked his fingers clean, sighing happily at the taste, and stared down at Kurt's stomach, where there was more just sitting there, waiting to be enjoyed.

_Well...he DOES need to be cleaned up_, Carson rationalized, hesitating only a moment before maneuvering himself into a comfortable position and darting his tongue out, running it up the length of Kurt's stomach as he collected the precious substance into his mouth. He was so busy enjoying himself that he didn't notice that Kurt was awake until he heard his voice pierce the quiet of the room.

"What're you doin'?" he mumbled sleepily, and Carson looked up at him, his tongue still dancing across Kurt's skin.

"You, um..." he said bashfully, wondering just how weird this looked to Kurt right now. "You came in your sleep, and...I, um...I kind of couldn't resist." Now that the sun was beginning to rise, he could see Kurt's face better, and it looked tired but slightly amused.

"You really have an addiction, don't you?" he said with a smile as Carson kissed his belly button softly.

"Mmm-hmm," he said, licking up the last few remaining drops as Kurt's hand stroked through his hair, his fingers sending a pleasant electric jolt through Carson's body. He didn't remove his mouth from Kurt, finding a freckle near his hip and kissing it thoughtfully.

"Memorizing the lay of the land, now?" asked Kurt as Carson continued kissing him, wanting to leave no freckle unkissed now that he'd started.

"No," answered Carson, working his way down one of Kurt's arms with his lips. "Just want to kiss all your freckles. Every last one."

"Ugh, I hate them," groaned Kurt, throwing his free arm over his eyes and turning his head away. "The freckles, I mean. Not your kisses."

"Aaw, Kurtsie, don't say that," said Carson. "Your freckles are gorgeous."

"Stop trying to butter me up," mumbled Kurt. "It won't work."

Carson was about to reply when they both heard the unmistakable sound of Rachel stirring in her own room.

"Shit," groaned Carson, getting up and planting one final kiss on Kurt's lips before handing him his pajama pants. "I really wish she'd just disappear."

"I know, baby," said Kurt sympathetically, hurriedly putting his pants on as Carson made his way back under the covers so they could at least look like they'd been innocently sleeping the whole time, just in case. "Just remember, on Friday we'll be rid of her. Sort of."

"Can't wait," said Carson with a sigh. He really, really couldn't.

* * *

Even though they only had to wait a day, Kurt thought he would explode by the time Friday finally rolled around. He woke up to a light rain tapping at his window, and hoped that it wasn't going to be a sign of bad luck and Rachel would decide to stay home all night just to fuck with them or something.

"So, Rachel," he said as he entered the kitchen, where Carson was already up and flipping pancakes on the stove. Rachel looked up from where she was reading something on her phone at the table and looked at him curiously.

"Yes, Kurt?" she asked, taking a sip from the teacup in front of her.

"You, um...you have that NYADA thing tonight, right?" Kurt asked, trying to sound casual. He just _really_ needed confirmation that they were going to have the place to themselves tonight, because he didn't think he could handle waiting any longer. Carson snorted over the pancakes and quickly tried to cover it up with a fake cough.

"Yeah," answered Rachel, and Kurt breathed a sigh of immense relief. "Actually, I'll be gone all night. Brody and I are going out afterwards, and I'll probably just stay at his place and come home in the morning."

_Oh my god, thank you Grilled Cheesus_, Kurt thought happily, praising Finn's long forgotten sandwich. _It's a miracle!_ He chanced a glance over to the stove, where Carson was barely bothering to contain his grin. Their eyes met, and they exchanged mutual "Oh god, it's really going to happen tonight, oh god" looks before Kurt casually took a seat at the table.

"Did you decide what song to sing?" he asked, figuring he could pretend to care now that he knew his night wasn't going to be destroyed. Well, he cared a little, just not as much as he cared about what he and Carson had planned for their evening.

Rachel nodded. "I decided to go with my old standby. _Don't Rain On My Parade_."

"Oh, you mean the song you sang for the NYADA audition you failed?" asked Carson brightly as he placed two pancakes on a plate and set the plate down in front of Kurt. "The one that you fucked up but still managed to get into the school anyway by resorting to creepy stalking, even though others' auditions were far superior? Yeah, that will really impress 'em. Good luck with that."

"You know what, Carson, you don't have to be so bitter," said Rachel haughtily as she took a thoughtful sip out of her teacup. "Kurt has assured me that there are no hard feelings over my getting into NYADA while he has to wait another semester. Right, Kurt?"

"Yeah," Kurt mumbled, shoving a forkful of pancake into his mouth and hoping the both of them would just drop it. He didn't want this to set a bad tone for the rest of what promised to be a perfect day.

"See?" asked Rachel, flashing Carson a triumphant smile. Carson rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he said, turning back to the stove and beginning work on more pancakes. He caught Kurt's eye again, and Kurt smiled at him.

* * *

It seemed like his work day dragged on much longer than usual that day. Not that he didn't enjoy his job, but between the constant drizzle and the fact that he was just so preoccupied with his plans for the evening, he just couldn't concentrate. He was relieved when his lunch break came and he could just sit and turn over the mental checklist he had been thinking about for the past day. He'd made sure he had lube. He'd picked up plenty of condoms for easy cleanup, and because he wasn't sure where Carson would stand on going without one, so he figured it would be better to be safe than sorry, so to speak. He'd spent a couple of hours the night before making a romantic playlist on his iPod for when the moment came. Everything was all set. He glanced at the clock, sighing at the fact that there was still hours to go before he could leave and spend the night wrapped in the arms of his love.

The ringing of his phone broke the silence, and he smiled down at it as Carson's face filled the screen.

"Hey, baby," he said into the phone as he answered the call. "How's it going?"

"She's gone!" exclaimed Carson in a sing-song voice. "She left about half an hour ago with her little duffle bag, and we won't see her ass back here until tomorrow, which means that you and I are going to have the most romantic night ever if it _kills_ me."

Kurt chuckled. He could just picture Carson wandering around the apartment with a big grin on his face as he delivered the happy news. "Enjoying yourself, are we?" he asked teasingly.

"You have no idea, honey," said Carson, and Kurt could practically hear the smile in his voice. "I'm actually doing fucking kicky feet like a twelve year old girl."

"I can't wait, Carsey," said Kurt with a laugh. "Ugh, I wish it was the end of the day _now_."

"I know, baby, but waiting is a good thing," replied Carson happily. "You have important work to do for _Vogue_, and I have important work to do for _us_."

"Oh?" asked Kurt, intrigued. He looked around to make sure no one was going to overhear his next words. "Do I sense some of that patented Carson Hummel romance coming my way tonight?"

"Maaaaaybe," teased Carson. "I gotta go, I have stuff to plan. I'll see you tonight, and I'm picking you up, ok?"

"Ok, sweetie," answered Kurt, the grin on his face becoming so large he was afraid his face might break in half. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Carson. "I'll see you tonight."

"Ok," said Kurt as they both hung up. He set his phone back in his pocket and settled down in his seat, grinning like an idiot and not even caring who saw.

_Tonight, Carsey. It's happening tonight. And it will be beautiful. I love you so much._

* * *

Carson didn't waste any time once had hung up with Kurt. He wasn't kidding when he said he'd make this the most romantic night of either of their lives, and he was determined to do just that. After so many years of pining and loving Kurt silently from a distance, tonight finally felt like the final culmination. The last step they had to take before they officially belonged to one another. Maybe it was stupid to feel that way, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted to make this a night that they would both remember fondly for the rest of their lives together.

_It has to be perfect. Absolutely everything has to be perfect, because it's Kurt, and I love him more than anything in the whole world, and he's been through so much in his life, and I just want him to have the perfect romance. It's one of the things he's always wanted, and he's never had it. I just want everything to be good for him. That's all._

Step one of Operation Perfect Romance was to go out and pick up groceries for the dinner he was planning on making for the two of them. He'd spent several hours that morning while he waited for Rachel to leave poring over various recipe websites looking for something suitable. Unfortunately, nothing had quite seemed special enough. At least, not anything he could be reasonably sure he would be able to cook without severely fucking it up. He was competent in the kitchen, but he wasn't some sort of culinary wizard. At last, he had settled on a pasta dish that involved cheese and various vegetables that didn't look too complicated. He'd only need to go pick up the ingredients and he'd be good to go.

Several hours later, after braving the wind and the rain, he came back to the apartment armed with a couple of grocery bags and a single long-stemmed rose, which he placed carefully aside to give to Kurt when he saw him. He carried his bags into the kitchen and turned on his laptop, pulling up the recipe he had decided on and getting to work preparing everything. He wanted most of the work done before he had to go meet Kurt at the _Vogue_ offices, because he had a feeling concentration wasn't going to be around in abundant amounts tonight.

_Well, this was easier than I expected_, he thought happily as everything began to come together nicely. All he would need to do once he and Kurt got home was turn the stove on and they'd be eating in no time.

Step two was to prepare the atmosphere. He'd found a bunch of candles while he was out that, while they weren't lilac scented the way he would have preferred, were at least still a decent shade of purple, so they'd still _suggest_ lilacs, kind of. He placed them in various places around the living room where they wouldn't be knocked over, and then he carefully placed Kurt's iPod into the portable speaker system. He definitely wanted mood music, and he figured that his twin's own music collection would be just the place to find something Kurt would enjoy.

_Let's see, _he mused to himself, scrolling through the various songs and albums on the device, _no, no, no...I don't even know who that is...actually, I don't know who half these people are...hmmm..._ He flipped over to the playlists section. Maybe he could get inspired by something from there.

_Oh, Kurtsie, you adorable little thing_, he thought, smiling to himself as he scrolled through Kurt's playlists. There, nestled among various playlists such as "Working Out" and "Dance Practice," was a playlist simply called "Carson." Carson clicked on it and glanced through the songs, all of which sounded like romantic ballads. His heart skipped a beat and he left the iPod on that playlist, turning the screen off and giving it a gentle pat as he made sure the device was properly secured to the speaker.

_Kurtsie, I can't even with you, sweetheart_, he thought, a lump forming in his throat at the thought that Kurt had actually taken the time to make a list of songs..._romantic_ sounding songs...that reminded him of Carson. _Baby, I don't even deserve you. I really, really don't._ He glanced at the clock and realized he'd have to leave if he wanted to be able to meet Kurt right as work ended, so he carefully grabbed an umbrella and the rose he'd got and headed out the door.

* * *

The subway ride back to Kurt's neighborhood from the _Vogue_ office was one of the longest experiences of Carson's life, and he didn't even feel like he was exaggerating by thinking that way. He'd made it into the city just fine, and arrived at Kurt's office promptly at five, when his twin was due to leave, proud of himself for being so correct with his timing.

"Carsey!" Kurt had exclaimed as soon as he saw him, giving an apologetic look to the girl he had been talking to before Carson entered. "Um, I'll work on that idea this weekend and discuss it with you on Monday, Rebecca. Ok?" he said to her as Carson waited in the doorway patiently. She nodded and turned to leave, looking a little surprised to see Carson standing there on her way out.

"Twins?" she asked.

"No, I'm his creepy doppelganger stalker," quipped Carson.

"He's kidding, we're twins," said Kurt, an amused smile on his face. Rebecca nodded and left, and Carson entered the office all the way, closing the door behind him. Not a moment too soon, either, because Kurt was practically leaping into his arms before the door was even securely shut.

"I missed you so much, you have _no_ idea," he said breathlessly before catching Carson's lips in a bruising kiss. "You're all wet."

"Well, it's raining out. And you didn't miss me nearly as much as I missed you," Carson insisted, holding out the red rose like an offering as they parted from the kiss. Kurt glanced at it, and his eyes practically sparkled as his face lit up with the brightest smile Carson had ever seen.

"Oh, Carsey," he said, taking the rose and holding it up to his nose to smell it. "You're so sweet to me, baby."

"Because I love you and you're precious to me," said Carson, taking Kurt's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I'd really love to get you home so I can show you just how much I love you." Kurt raised his eyebrows and smiled, turning out the lights before opening the office door and leading Carson hurriedly to the lobby and out the door. Carson thought he'd die before they got home, but when they finally reached the apartment and slid open the heavy door, Carson felt at peace. There was nothing standing in their way now. Nobody was home, and neither of them had to be anywhere but right where they were. They had nothing to do but love each other, and Carson felt a flurry of butterflies start going crazy in his stomach at the thought.

"Mmm, what's all that?" asked Kurt curiously, nodding toward the kitchen as Carson took his coat off for him and gently shook out the droplets of rainwater before placing it to dry over a chair.

"Dinner," answered Carson cheerfully as he crossed over to the stove and turned everything on, stirring it a little before covering the pots.

"I'm so spoiled," said Kurt with a happy sigh, coming up behind Carson and wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. "Do you think I could keep you?"

"Hmmm, I don't know," teased Carson. "For how long?"

"Forever," Kurt whispered, kissing Carson's neck, and Carson felt himself melting at the contact of Kurt's lips on his skin, his heart thumping faster in his chest.

"That could be arranged," he said, turning around to kiss Kurt tenderly on the lips, one hand cupping his twin's face while the other rested gently around his waist, pulling their bodies closer. They stood there kissing like that for a couple of minutes, just enjoying being together, and Carson was very reluctant to let Kurt go as he turned back around to check on the food.

"Did I ever tell you that you're super adorable when you're cooking like that?" asked Kurt as he took a seat at the table and placed his chin in his hands. Carson smiled and looked back at him.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yep," replied Kurt, kicking his legs under the table like an excited kid. "I feel lucky, you know. To be the only one who gets to really see _you_. All of you, not just the parts you show to everyone else."

Carson didn't say anything as he waited for the lump in his throat to go down. "Ahem. Uh, I think dinner's about ready," he finally managed to croak out as he began dishing portions onto two plates.

"Smells delicious," said Kurt, seeming to have sensed what Carson was feeling. Carson could barely concentrate on dinner, although he was happy that Kurt seemed to be enjoying it. He was starting to get really nervous about the rest of the evening. He really didn't want to mess anything up, and the more he thought about it, the more he worried that he would do something wrong and severely screw up the experience for both of them.

"Carsey?" said Kurt after a while. Carson blinked at him.

"Hmm?"

"Are you ok?" Kurt asked, sounding concerned. Carson looked into his twin's ocean-like eyes, which at the moment were clouded over with worry, and he felt his stomach flutter as a sense of peace washed over him. Something in Kurt's eyes told him everything would be alright.

"I'm fine," he said with a smile, leaning across the table to kiss him tenderly.

"Good," whispered Kurt, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb. He insisted on helping Carson clear the table, and Carson let him, rushing over to the portable speaker in the living room when he was through and turning on the iPod he had placed there earlier.

"I, um...I thought we could slow dance a little," Carson stammered when he saw Kurt looking over at him curiously. "Because, you know, I always wanted to do it with you at prom, but as your boyfriend and not just your brother, but, you know, it never worked out that way, even though we _did_ dance together, kinda, but you were with...well, we weren't together, and before we do anything tonight I just want this little moment of-"

His words were cut off by a pair of lips on his own. He didn't even realize Kurt had been crossing over to him until he was being wrapped in his twin's embrace and held close to him, his heart beating erratically as Kurt reached one hand out to press the play button on the iPod.

"You found the playlist I made," he whispered in Carson's ear as he placed his hands on his shoulders. Carson shook himself out of his reverie and placed his own hands on Kurt's waist as the opening notes of Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling In Love With You" filled the room and the two of them swayed slowly in time to the music.

"It was called _Carson_," Carson answered, unconsciously pulling Kurt nearer to him and holding him close.

"Mmm-hmm," said Kurt. "They're songs that remind me of you. I made it for...well...I made it for tonight."

"_But I can't help falling in love with you_," crooned Elvis in the background, and Carson swallowed the lump that was rapidly rising again in his throat. _This song reminds him of me. It's such a beautiful love song. I...I can't handle all of these feelings. It's too much, but it's so wonderful._

"I love you," he whispered as Kurt kissed him tenderly on the ear.

"Like a river flows surely to the sea," Kurt sang softly into his ear, "Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be..."

Carson knew in that moment that if he never did anything else worthwhile in his entire life, he at least wanted to do one thing for sure. He definitely wanted to spend his entire life with the perfect man he was dancing with right now. No matter what happened, he always wanted to be by Kurt's side and make him as happy as he possibly could. He couldn't think of anything he'd rather do more.

"I can't help falling in love with you," he sang, picking up the tune as best he could and resting his head on Kurt's shoulder.

"I think this is kind of our song now," mused Kurt as the song came to an end. Carson smiled, willing himself not to start crying in front of him.

"Yeah, I...I guess it is," he said with a smile, catching Kurt's lips in a soft kiss that made his body heat up from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

"Are you nervous?" asked Kurt. "I mean...you know...about tonight?"

Carson bit his lip and hesitated a second before nodding. "Just a little bit."

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile and stroked his cheek. "Oh, my Carsey. Come with me, baby." He turned the iPod speaker off and took Carson's hand, bypassing the bedroom to lead him into the bathroom. Carson watched in a lovesick daze as Kurt drew a bath and slowly undressed in front of him. _I never lit the candles in the living room_, he thought, which was a pretty stupid thing to think, he decided, since the love of his life was undressing right there, and now he...oh...ok, he was lifting Carson's T-shirt up and tossing it off, and undoing his pants, and _wow, we're both naked now, when did THAT happen_?

"What are we doing?" asked Carson quietly, thinking even as he spoke that it was a pretty dumb question to ask, since they were in the bathroom, with water running in the bathtub, and they were both naked at the moment. Kurt smiled and took his hand.

"We're taking our time," he answered simply, fixing his eyes reassuringly on Carson's. "There's absolutely no rush to do anything, ok? We can go slow and enjoy ourselves. We have all night. We don't even have to do anything tonight if you don't want-"

"Oh no, I...I want," said Carson breathlessly, taking in the sight of Kurt's nude body with immense appreciation. "But...but taking our time sounds really nice." Kurt grinned and led Carson gently by the hand over to the bathtub.

"You first," he said. "I want to sit in your lap." Carson smiled shyly and kissed him on the cheek before gingerly stepping into the hot bath, sighing happily as he slid down into the water and settled his back against the rim. Kurt turned off the water and stepped in after him, slowly settling himself down until he was settled into Carson's lap, his back pleasantly flush against his chest. The water lapped gently around them, and Carson let out a contented sigh. He really loved being in the bathtub with Kurt. It was one of the most relaxing things ever, just sitting in the soothing, warm water and enjoying the tranquility of being pressed skin to skin. They didn't get to do it very much because of Rachel, so Carson definitely appreciated the opportunity, especially right before something as important as what they were planning to do tonight.

"Carsey's lost in thought," said Kurt, leaning his head up to look at Carson from underneath his long eyelashes. "So serious. What's on your mind, baby?"

Carson thought about it. What _was_ on his mind, exactly? He realized, as he willed his mind to focus, that the main thing he was thinking about was that he was still so nervous that nothing would go right when they finally got to the main event, as it were. That he would severely fuck up his and Kurt's first time somehow.

"I'm still nervous," he said quietly. "Not that I don't want to do it, Kurtsie," he added quickly, wrapping his arms tightly around him and hugging him close. "I do. I just...I want this whole thing to be perfect, and I'm worried that I'll end up fucking it up."

"Oh, Carsey, honey," said Kurt soothingly, petting at his arms. "You couldn't possible screw it up. This whole night has been really romantic, and it will only get more so once we're making love. It's not supposed to be some perfectly coordinated thing, anyway. It never is, and that's ok. The important thing is being together in that way, you know?"

Carson nodded, even though Kurt was facing away from him and couldn't see him. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am," said Kurt, bring one of Carson's hands up to his lips and kissing it softly. "Mmm, this is nice. I like this. We should take more baths."

"Kurtsie?" asked Carson, distracted by a new thought. He thought he'd hit upon the perfect way to eradicate any remaining nervousness.

"Hmm?" said Kurt lazily.

"When we...when we make love, um..." Carson began, not quite knowing how to phrase his question. "Um, do you...do you think you'd mind...you know...t-topping? I know we didn't discuss who would do that, but I really think you should."

Kurt wiggled around until he was turned to face Carson, sitting cross-legged across from him. "Um...if that's what you want, Carsey," he said, his eyes fixed on Carson's curiously. "Can I ask why?"

"I just...I've never topped before, obviously, and I don't want to end up doing it wrong. I don't want to hurt you, or disappoint you, and if I top that's all I'm going to be thinking about, and I don't want our first time to be like that," said Carson in a rush, relieved to have it out in the open. "I want it to be perfect. You know what you...what you're doing, so..."

Kurt brought one finger up gently to Carson's lips to silence him and leaned in, catching his lips in a slow, soft kiss that had Carson seeing fireworks.

"It's ok, Carsey," he whispered. "I'll top, ok? It will be great." Carson nodded and held his arms out, smiling when Kurt eagerly fell into them. They stayed like that for a while, although Carson couldn't tell precisely how long. It didn't matter, because Kurt was right. They had all night, and there was no rush.

By the time they had gotten out, dried each other off, and Kurt had led Carson by the hand to the bedroom, gently guiding him down onto the bed, Carson was much more relaxed and ready. This was finally happening. This was real.

"I love you so much," he whispered as Kurt crawled onto the bed beside him, leaning down for a kiss.

"I love you too, Carsey," replied Kurt. "It's going to be really good, ok?" Carson nodded and Kurt smiled, kissing him one more time before working his way down Carson's neck and chest, his lips planting impossibly light and soft kisses every few inches. He sucked one of Carson's nipples into his mouth and sucked gently, causing Carson to moan loudly. He cut the moan short out of habit, having gotten used to needing to be quiet because of Rachel, and Kurt smiled up at him.

"She's not here. You can let go," he said, and went back to working on Carson's other nipple, and _god_, that was definitely a thing for Carson. He hadn't even known before a couple of weeks ago that he had a nipple kink. _Don't call it a kink, Carson, this is supposed to be beautiful._

His breath hitched as Kurt made his way down to his hardening dick and wrapped his lips delicately around the head, giving it a few teasing sucks, and Carson liked it, he really did, but that wasn't what he wanted right now. They had done this much before, lots of times. He really just wanted Kurt. More of him. To feel him all around.

"K-kurt," he breathed, patting Kurt carefully on the top of the head. "Um...Kurt..."

Kurt pulled off and looked up at him, his eyes clouding over with worry. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing," said Carson with a smile. "Absolutely nothing, I just...I want you." Kurt smiled, nodding in understanding and coming back up to connect their lips in another kiss, this one significantly more passionate and desperate.

"You're sure you're ready?" he mumbled against Carson's lips, and Carson nodded.

"I've been ready my whole life."

Kurt smiled, kissing him once more and leaving Carson panting for breath. He reached over into the nightstand and pulled out a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms, and it finally hit Carson how _real_ this was. He was going to have Kurt inside of him very shortly, and the very thought was practically making him explode. Kurt turned his attention back to Carson, setting the condoms off to the side and gently pushing Carson's thighs apart, sitting on his knees between them. He uncapped the lube bottle and lubed up his fingers generously before placing the bottle aside. He ran his fingers down over Carson's thigh until they reached his ass, and Carson felt one finger probing between his cheeks until it found his entrance, circling slowly and teasingly. He wasn't able to stop his hips from bucking up into the touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Kurt patted him soothingly on the leg with his clean hand.

"It's ok, Carsey. Do what feels good," he said. He gently probed until the tip of his finger had breached Carson's entrance, and Carson gasped at the feeling and the realization that a part of Kurt was now technically inside of him. _Oh god, oh god, this is real, this is SO real, oh my god..._

Kurt took his time, working the one finger slowly until it was fully inside of Carson. He moved it around gently, and Carson wanted to cry. Not because it hurt, or anything. It didn't. It was just so surreal to think they were connecting in that way. That this was happening and they were really consummating their relationship fully. Just them, and the night, and the rhythm of the rain tapping gently at the window. It was just overwhelming. Overwhelming but beautiful.

"Are you ok?" asked Kurt. Carson nodded.

"Wonderful," he said breathily. Kurt smiled and moved his finger around a little more.

"Think you can take two fingers now?" Carson nodded, and Kurt obliged, gingerly pressing a second finger in beside the first and opening Carson up more. Carson sighed happily, and before long, Kurt had worked up to a third finger and was gently pumping them in and out of Carson in a steady rhythm. And then his fingers brushed up against something inside him that caused Carson to shout out loud in white hot pleasure and see stars dancing in front of his eyes as his back arched involuntarily off the bed.

"Oh my _fuck_," he panted. "Oh my god, was that...?"

Kurt nodded. "That would be your prostate, yes," he said with a grin. "Thought I'd never find it." He brushed his fingers up against it again, and Carson moaned embarrassingly loud, thanking his lucky stars that Kurt had no neighbors close enough to hear what was going on. He pushed his hips down onto Kurt's fingers, chasing the feeling, and he seriously thought he was going to die, because surely this is what heaven felt like. If there were a heaven, that is.

"Kurt, I...can...now?" he muttered incoherently, and thankfully Kurt took the hint. He gently removed his fingers, wiping them on the towel he had brought in from the bathroom. "Put that pillow underneath yourself," he said quietly, indicating a plain white pillow at the foot of the bed. "Make yourself as comfortable as possible, ok?" Carson nodded and followed instructions, placing the pillow beneath him and adjusting as Kurt opened the box of condoms and took one out. He unwrapped the foil and tossed it aside, rolling it efficiently onto his erection and squirting more lube onto his hand, slicking himself up. He slicked Carson's entrance up a little more, as well, and then looked him in the eyes.

"You're ready?" he asked, as though searching for confirmation. Carson nodded eagerly, biting his lip.

"Mmm-hmm."

Kurt settled himself between Carson's legs and lined himself up, looking down at him and leaning in for a soft kiss. "You'll tell me if you want to stop, right?" he whispered.

"Yes," said Carson. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby," Kurt said, and with that he began to push himself in. Carson's breath hitched in his throat and he hissed at the sudden intrusion. It burned just a little bit, and he closed his eyes tightly as he waited for his body to adjust and his muscles to relax. Kurt was taking his time, pushing in slowly inch by inch, and it definitely seemed to burn less and less the more Kurt entered him, which he was thankful for. By the time Kurt was fully sheathed inside of him, the burning was mostly gone and was replaced with a feeling of pleasant fullness.

_Oh god, he's inside of me. He's inside of me and we're joined and this is everything I've always dreamed it would be. God, Carson, do NOT start crying. Not now._

"Still ok?" asked Kurt, sounding worried. Carson smiled at him reassuringly and nodded.

"I've never been better," he replied. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck, leaning his head up to kiss him. "You, um...you can move now." Kurt smiled and nodded, and Carson felt him pulling out just a little bit before pushing back in, still going slow. The drag was delicious, and Carson thought he'd faint from the pleasure of just knowing they were joined as one. There was no going back now, and they had given themselves to each other fully. It was gorgeous.

He brought his legs up and wrapped them around Kurt's waist, trying to match the rhythm of Kurt's thrusts, which were gradually increasing in speed, and Carson groaned at the increased friction as the thrusting got faster and faster. He threw his head back against the pillows, panting as his hard, flushed erection rested heavily against his stomach, leaking and throbbing with the orgasm building up inside of him. The desire to come was overwhelming. He didn't think he'd ever been this desperate before.

"You're beautiful like this," whispered Kurt into his ear as he continued his thrusting. "You have no idea." Carson whined as Kurt shifted a little and his dick hit that magical spot inside him from before.

"Oh...oh god...K-kurt...fuck..." he panted, and then he felt one of Kurt's hands snaking between their bodies to wrap around his aching erection, beginning to pump him gently in time with his thrusts. Carson cried out, gripping onto Kurt's shoulders for dear life. His nails were digging into Kurt's skin, he knew, but he couldn't help it, because the pleasure was so overwhelming he was sure he was going to pass out at any moment.

"Kuuuurt," he moaned as Kurt thrust repeatedly into his prostate. His orgasm blindsided him completely, slamming into him unexpectedly as he twitched and came in Kurt's hand, clenching rhythmically around Kurt's dick. Kurt stroked him through it, and then he stilled inside of him and Carson felt him pulsating as he came into the condom with a whine. He lay there on top of Carson for a minute before slowly beginning to pull out, and Carson whined at the loss of the fullness as Kurt removed the condom, tied it up, and tossed it...somewhere. Carson didn't really care. All he knew was pure bliss as Kurt collapsed back beside him and wrapped him in his arms, the two of them laying there panting and silently enjoying the afterglow for several wonderful minutes.

"How do you feel?" asked Kurt after a while, reaching up to stroke his fingers through Carson's hair. Carson snuggled closer to him and smiled.

"Complete," he said. It was true. He'd never felt more fulfilled in his life than he felt right now, and it was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. Kurt smiled and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"We should clean you up," said Kurt, looking down at Carson's stomach. "You'll get really uncomfortable very soon if we don't."

"Mmmmph," Carson mumbled in protest, cuddling closer to Kurt and burying his face in his shoulder. "Don't wanna let you go yet."

"I'll be back in a minute, baby, ok?" said Kurt, kissing his forehead reassuringly. "Just gonna get a washcloth for you." He gently removed himself from Carson's grip and got off the bed, walking gracefully toward the bathroom, and Carson greatly admired the view of his bare ass. _Next time we have sex I'm going to squeeze it more_, he said to himself.

"Hurry back, baby," he said, and Kurt smiled as he disappeared into the bathroom. Carson lay back against the pillows and sighed happily. He didn't think life could get any better than it was right now.

The vibrating of a phone interrupted his happy reverie, and he glanced over to the nightstand to see whose phone was the culprit threatening to encroach upon his happiness. To his utter dismay, he discovered that it was Kurt's phone, and that it was lighting up with a phone call from the one person who fucking _would_ call right now and ruin everything. Carson certainly wasn't proud of what he did next, but he simply couldn't stop himself. He picked up the phone and answered the call, placing the phone to his ear and laying it all out on the line.

"Ok, listen, asshole," he said angrily. "What the fuck will it take for you to get a fucking clue and realize that Kurt doesn't want to talk to you?"

"What are _you_ doing there?" Blaine asked after a moment of silence.

"What am I _doing_ here?" Carson exclaimed. "What the fuck did you think I would do when Kurt called me crying that you'd been fucking someone else behind his back? I'm here trying to heal him from the wounds _you_ caused, you little shit."

Blaine sighed, sounding frustrated. "Look, this isn't any of your business, so can you just go get Kurt for me?"

"That's where you're wrong, asshole," Carson hissed. "It _is_ my business. You have no fucking idea how much it's now my business, so why don't you just go fuck yourself? And don't call him again." He hung up the phone, putting it back on the nightstand and burying his face in his hands, trying to regain his composure.

_Trust that fucking asshole to horn in on a perfect evening_, he thought bitterly. _Go disappear, fucker. Or die. I really don't give a fuck._

A small clearing of a throat alerted him to the fact that Kurt was in the room, standing just beyond the privacy curtain and looking uncertain as he held a damp washcloth in his hand. "Carsey?" he said softly. Carson gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Kurtsie. I shouldn't have answered your phone, I just...I can't...now that we're...this can't go on," he babbled, and to his relief Kurt was crossing over to him, settling beside him and slowly beginning to run the washcloth over his stomach.

"I understand, baby," he said soothingly as he cleaned Carson up. "Eventually he'll get it." He finished cleaning him and tossed the washcloth to join the other discarded towel on the floor before settling underneath the covers, pulling Carson close. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," said Carson with a sigh as their lips met. Aside from Blaine, it had been the most perfect night of his life, and he never wanted to forget this moment of just the two of them.

_I'll die to protect you, Kurtsie. Don't ever think I won't. I love you._

* * *

The first thing Carson did the next morning when he woke up was to pinch himself hard on the arm, just to make sure the previous night hadn't been a dream. It hurt, and he smiled with absolute joy. He and Kurt had finally done it. They'd made love, and it had been perfect and beautiful and everything Carson had ever hoped it would be.

_I'm seriously the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole world_, he thought happily as he gazed up at Kurt's sleeping, peaceful face. It was kind of strange, being held in Kurt's arms when it was usually the other way around, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. He could definitely get used to having those strong arms holding him on a regular basis. He squeezed where their hands were joined together with interlocked fingers and kissed Kurt's hand softly.

"Morning," said Kurt, his eyes still closed. _Oh, so he was awake after all._

"Morning, beautiful," replied Carson, leaning up for a kiss. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby," answered Kurt with a yawn. "Oh my god, did last night really happen?"

"Sure did," answered Carson with a smile. "I hope I didn't, you know...disappoint."

Kurt chuckled. "You didn't," he assured him, hugging him closer and kissing his hair. "You were perfect." He caught Carson's lips in another kiss, this one a little more heated and intense, despite the fact that they both were only half awake. "You're magical, actually," he breathed, and Carson blushed.

"You only think that because it was the first time," he protested. "I probably suck the rest of the time. You don't know."

"Hmm, well, you _do_ suck," said Kurt teasingly. "But, you know. In the _good_ way," he added with a saucy raise of his eyebrows. Carson laughed.

"I try," he said, shifting a little and wincing at the realization that he could still feel exactly what happened the previous night.

"Are you ok?" asked Kurt, catching the expression on his face. Carson nodded.

"Yeah. Just a little sore, that's all," he said, cuddling close to Kurt and kissing his shoulder. "I'll be fine soon."

"It should pass soon," said Kurt. "We could, um...we could get you into a hot shower in the meantime, if you want." Carson looked up and smiled.

"Kurt Hummel, are you suggesting we take a hot, steamy shower together?" he asked teasingly, and Kurt blushed, nodding.

"Maybe," he replied coyly. "I'd say I'll race you to the bathroom, but that would be wildly unfair, considering that you're in pain and all."

"I'm not in _that_ much pain," protested Carson, regretting the loss of Kurt's warmth as his twin got up out of bed and stretched. He held his hand out to Carson, and Carson took it gratefully as Kurt helped him out of bed.

"Come on, let's go get steamy," teased Kurt, and Carson grinned as he allowed him to lead him into the bathroom. He was very attentive once they had stepped into the shower together, soaping up a loofah and gently running it all over Carson's body, cleaning him almost reverently, as if he were something very precious. Carson had never felt more loved, and it made his heart feel very full.

"I'm so lucky," he whispered as Kurt ran the soapy sponge across his chest, and Kurt gave him a small smile.

"No, I am," he said, leaning in for a soft kiss. Considering that the shower didn't have any walls, Carson thought Kurt did a pretty good job of staying steady on his feet as Carson worked his way down his body with his mouth and gave him what he personally considered to be his best blowjob to date.

* * *

They planned to go out while they were eating breakfast at the table, but as it turned out, it never came to that. Rachel came home briefly to collect more clothes, saying she was going to just spend the weekend with Brody.

_Thank fuck_, Carson thought gratefully as she marched over to her room to pack her bag. _Now Kurtsie and I can have some more uninterrupted time together._ He was so happy that he didn't even make any smartass remarks to her, although he was sorely tempted when Kurt asked her how the mixer had gone,

"Boring," she complained. "Nobody even asked me to sing." Kurt gave Carson the side-eye, probably expecting him to make a comment, but Carson held his composure. He wasn't going to ruin their perfect weekend with petty remarks.

"Don't forget your clown makeup," he said brightly as Rachel headed out the door. She rolled her eyes and slammed it shut, and Carson sighed. Ok, he'd _almost _made it.

He and Kurt spent a lovely day just hanging out around the apartment, which in Carson's opinion was better than going out, anyway. They couldn't act like a couple out in public, and that was really all either of them wanted to do, he knew. They spent most of the day playing Monopoly, a game which Carson had always loathed, but which was suddenly a lot more interesting when he was playing it with his lover.

_My lover. I can't believe that's what he is now,_ he thought in awe as he watched Kurt squeal with glee over charging him an outrageous amount of rent for Park Place with a hotel.

"You're ruthless," he whined as he forked over the last of his money and mortgaged his shitty properties to afford the rest of the rent.

"I know," said Kurt with a grin. "It's one of the best things about me, wouldn't you say?"

"Considering we've been playing this game for about four hours, not including a lunch break, I'd say it's also one of the cruelest things about you," said Carson. "Look at you, throwing your lover into poverty and forcing him to live in a cardboard box while you take all his money for yourself. You adorable little miser."

Kurt looked at him curiously, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth. "You...you said lover," he said quietly.

"Yeah," said Carson, meeting his eyes and smiling back. "I...I guess I did."

Kurt looked at him for a minute, and then he was crawling across the game board and taking Carson's face in his hands, kissing him hard and desperate, and Carson felt the familiar stirring in his stomach as he returned the kiss with equal fervor. Somehow they ended up on top of the game board, Kurt brushing aside the game pieces and various wads of play money in order to lay down on top of it, pulling Carson on top of him. They kissed as if they would never kiss again, growing increasingly more desperate as their teeth and tongues did battle with each other and hands roamed everywhere they possibly could, and if this was a dream, then Carson never wanted to wake up.

"Carson," panted Kurt as Carson was working on a particularly awesome looking hickey. "Carson, I, um..."

"Hmm?" Carson mumbled against him, laving his tongue over the abused skin. _He tastes really good here, shit._

"Can...can we do it again?" Kurt gasped out as Carson continued sucking at him. "Make love, I mean...I...I want you this time."

Carson stopped what he was doing and looked down at him, his stomach flipping and his brain shorting out.

"You...are you sure?" he asked in a whisper, and Kurt bit his lip and nodded.

"It's just, I never...Blaine and I...he never topped," Kurt said in a rush, "I never wanted him to, not after what happened at Scandals, and.."

"Wait, what?" asked Carson, confused. "The gay bar? Oh god, what did he do?"

Kurt bit his lip and looked uncomfortable. "He...he tried to...to force himself on me. I was saying no, but he was drunk, and I...he held me down..."

Carson felt a surge of anger overtake him, so strong he wanted to throw up. "He did _what_?" _That fucking asshole. I knew it. I fucking knew it._

"I managed to stop him, it's ok," said Kurt quickly. "I just...I never felt comfortable bottoming after that. And I want my first experience with that to be with you, so...um..."

Carson shushed him with a kiss, holding him as close as he could and planting little kisses all over his cheeks when he was done. "Kurt, first of all, no, it's not ok. Billy's a fucking rapist, and I am so pissed I can't even think straight right now."

Kurt looked off to the side. "I want you," he said quietly. "If...if you want to, I mean, I just..."

"Shhh, Kurtsie, god, yes, I...I mean, I'm still nervous that I won't do it right, or something, especially after what you just told me, but..."

"Carsey, no, you'll be perfect," Kurt insisted. "I just _really_ want to have this with you, baby. I'm so ready, you have no idea."

Carson had no idea how they managed to move from the living room to the bedroom, but before he knew it they were making out on the bed, Kurt's playlist playing on the portable speaker and their lips sliding together softly as Carson slowly undressed Kurt, taking his time and savoring every new revealed inch of skin as though he were seeing it for the first time. He worshiped all of it, leaving no inch of skin unkissed or unloved, and he would have been perfectly happy doing this forever just laying here and tasting Kurt all over. How he had wound up with this precious treasure, he would never understand, but he wasn't going to question it anymore.

"Are you sure?" he asked, reaching for the lube bottle from the night before when Kurt nodded and kissed him. Carson took a deep breath and uncapped the lube bottle, preparing to pour some out onto his fingers when there was a sudden knock on the apartment door.

"Shit," moaned Kurt, throwing one arm over his eyes. "It's probably Rachel coming back for something she forgot. I swear, that girl..."

Carson groaned in frustration. "I'm going to kill her," he said, reaching for his shirt. Thankfully, he still had his jeans on. "But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to let her in and look menacing so that she collects her shit and gets the fuck out."

Kurt giggled. "Hurry back, lover," he said teasingly, kissing Carson's hand and sliding under the covers as Carson left the room, sliding the curtain closed and making sure Kurt was completely hidden from view before heading for the door.

"I'm coming!" he said irritably as he crossed the apartment and the knocking grew persistent. He glanced down at his hand and realized he was still holding the bottle of lube.

_Whatever, Trollberry won't notice_, he thought, setting it down on a nearby table and sliding the door open. Unfortunately, it wasn't Rachel on the other side, although Carson almost wished it was, because the actual person he saw when he opened the door was a million times worse.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" he snapped, glaring at Blaine and crossing his arms across his chest. "For fuck's sake, do you ever take a hint? Did you _seriously_ just fly all the way out here? _Seriously?_

"Where's Kurt?" asked Blaine calmly, ignoring Carson's words as though they were of no importance to him.

"None of your fucking business," Carson hissed, trying to keep his voice low so as not to alert Kurt to what was going on. "He doesn't want to see you, so why don't you just go fuck off?"

Blaine smirked at him, crossing his own arms to match Carson's and looking him up and down. "Uh-huh. I bet," he said, glancing around the apartment as though he'd find Kurt hiding in plain sight. "I bet," he said in a softer tone as his eyes landed on something and darkened, and Carson realized with a sinking chest that he had seen the lube bottle. "In the bedroom, is he?" he asked in a low voice. "Waiting for you to come back? Didn't think he'd stoop so low so soon, honestly."

Carson's temper flared, and before he knew what he was doing he was grabbing Blaine by the bowtie and throwing him out into the hallway, following him out and shutting the door behind them as quietly as he could, hoping the music playing in the bedroom would distract Kurt from any noise.

"Ok, asshole, this is where you and I settle our unfinished business," he growled, pinning Blaine up against the nearest wall with both hands. "I have stood by for _years_ while you abused my brother, and now shit has gotten so fucking real, you don't even know. I'm not going to take it anymore, and I'm sure as fuck not going to let Kurt take it, especially not now. So either you walk your ass out of this building right the fuck now and leave him alone, or I make you regret the day you were ever born. Are we clear, fucker?" Carson punctuated his point by using his hands to slam Blaine up against the wall a second time, but the other boy remained remarkably calm looking as he met Carson's glare with one of his own.

"You are just _so_ confident, aren't you?" he asked cooly, looking Carson up and down. "You feel so good about yourself right now, don't you? I'm amused, really. You think he actually loves you?" he asked, his eyes dancing in merriment as a devilish smile began forming on his lips. "You _actually_ think he would want you now? You're such a fool. He's using you as a distraction, you idiot. Once he's calmed down over the cheating and has let me talk to him, he'll come right back to me and leave you in the dust, just like he's done _so many fucking times before, _because we're soulmates, and it's exactly what you'll deserve for being a disgusting, incestuous asshole. You know what, though? I hope you enjoyed him. Really, I do. I just hope you didn't use him up too badly. I'll still need him in working order when I get him back. Did it bother you much, knowing that I got there first?"

That was it. Carson couldn't take it anymore. He felt something inside him snap, and the next thing he knew he was punching Blaine right in the face, as hard as he could. And then he did it again. And again. Blaine threw a few swings in his own defense, even hitting Carson with some of them, but Carson was undeterred, continuing to punch Blaine with all the strength he had in him, making use of all those years of martial arts classes he'd taken as a kid just in case he ever needed to defend Kurt. It seemed the time had finally come. He managed to get a firm enough hold of Blaine to throw him on the ground, and then he started kicking him for all he was worth, feeling satisfaction with every connection of his foot with Blaine's body, particularly the ones that landed anywhere near his dick.

"Fuck you, you fucking asshole!" he shouted as he continued beating Blaine senseless. "This is for every time you've used and humiliated and abused and cheated on and fucking tried to _rape_ Kurt, and so help me I hope you feel it until your dying fucking day!" He delivered a particularly hard kick to Blaine's back and wished he was wearing shoes so that he could do much more damage. His kicks were a little lame after being out of practice for so many years, but they were keeping the other boy down, and that was the important thing.

"And you know what, _Blaine_?" he spat out as Blaine lay writhing in pain on the ground. "I actually hope you fucking die alone."

"Carson!" he heard Kurt yelling, and then his now fully dressed twin was throwing himself at him, pulling him off of Blaine with all his strength. "Carson stop! Stop! You'll kill him, Carson, stop, please!" He held Carson tightly in his arms, and Carson stood there shaking, trying to calm down but not being very successful.

"Oh god, Carson, what did you do?" Kurt asked, his eyes full of tears and his voice shaking as he took in the sight of Blaine whimpering in pain on the ground.

"I did it for you," Carson said shakily, and Kurt frowned at him, shaking his head.

"Carson, I...just...go wait in the bedroom for me," he said. "Please. You need to calm down, and I have to help Blaine, so just..."

"Help him _why_?" protested Carson, the anger coming back full force. "He's an asshole, he's a stalker, and he's an abusive fuck! Let him rot out here!"

"Carson!" Kurt shouted at him. "Just go, ok? Go into the bedroom and calm down, please!" He was crying now, and Carson took a deep breath and left him out there, marching off to the bedroom feeling angrier and more disappointed than he'd ever felt in his life. He couldn't believe this was happening right now.

_Fuck you, Blaine, Fuck you, fuck you, fuck youuuuu._

* * *

Kurt watched Carson head back into the apartment, his mind racing with a million different thoughts as he assessed the situation before him. There were no neighbors on this floor, no one who could possibly have heard what was going on, and at least that was something. He didn't want the police called or for Carson to be arrested for assault. He'd lie if he had to, in order to prevent that. He crossed over to Blaine and knelt down, reaching out one hand to gingerly touch him.

"Blaine?" he asked quietly. "Can you sit up?"

"I don't know," Blaine whined, although he didn't seem to actually be in that much pain as he sat up and allowed Kurt to pull him upright. "It hurts," he complained as Kurt led him into the apartment and shut the door. He helped him into the kitchen and sat him down at the table while he went to get ice from the freezer.

"Your brother's an asshole," Blaine mumbled, and Kurt stiffened at the words. He knew there had to be a reason Carson had done what he'd done, and he had a feeling it had a lot to do with what Kurt had told him earlier about Scandals. He put some ice into a towel and sat down beside Blaine, holding it up to his swollen face and frowning as Blaine winced from the pain. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to be damaged beyond some bruising was Blaine's face, which was swollen and bleeding slightly. At least that meant Blaine wouldn't have to go to the hospital for a broken bone or anything, although Kurt guessed that he'd be a walking collection of bruises for quite a while after tonight.

_Carson, baby, I wish you hadn't done this. I understand your feelings, but violence is never the answer, baby. And I can fight my own battles._

"What are you doing here, Blaine?" he asked as he gently patted the ice compress to his ex-boyfriend's face.

"I wanted to see you," Blaine said with a pout. "You weren't answering my calls or my texts. You returned my gifts."

"Because I wasn't ready to talk to you, Blaine," said Kurt with a sigh. "You cheated on me. I was angry."

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry," said Blaine, wincing again as Kurt pressed the ice to his face. "I really am. Can't you just give me another chance? I miss you, and I don't know why I did what I did, I just was really lonely. I can't stand losing you, Kurt. I _won't_ lose you."

Kurt shook his head, handing Blaine the ice to hold on his own and sighing again. "Blaine, I can't do that. It's really over, and I can't and won't go back to you. You need to understand..."

"But why?" Blaine whined. "I miss you, and it wasn't _my_ fault I was so lonely, ok? I just..._please_ give me one more chance, Kurt. Please?"

"No, Blaine."

"But we're so good together, Kurt," said Blaine, putting the ice compress down and leaning in to Kurt, who leaned back away from him. "You and I are soulmates, remember?"

"No, we're not, Blaine," said Kurt, leaning further back the more Blaine invaded his space. "We never were."

"Yes we were, baby, come on, don't you remember?" pleaded Blaine. "I don't want to lose you." He leaned in and caught Kurt's lips in a rough, soulless kiss, and Kurt was so shocked that he had no choice but to sit there and let it happen for a minute, much longer than he wanted, which was _no kiss at all, what the fuck, Blaine,_ before he finally got a hold of his brain and pushed Blaine off of him.

"Blaine, _no_!" he said forcefully. "I said no, and I mean no, so please just...please go! Go get a hotel for the night, I don't care, but you can't stay here. You just can't. I'll talk to you tomorrow if you really want to, but I just can't tonight, ok?"

"But," Blaine began, but Kurt cut him off.

"_NO_."

Blaine looked at him sadly, and then an angry look darkened his face as he got up from the table, grabbing the ice compress and taking it with him as he hobbled toward the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, sounding slightly threatening, and Kurt swallowed nervously as he watched Blaine go. He sat there at the table for a minute, trying to regain his composure and process what the hell had just happened tonight, before he got up and headed back toward the bedroom.

* * *

Carson felt like throwing up or screaming or both as he paced the bedroom, his mind racing just as fast as his heart, and his stomach feeling sicker than it ever had. He'd been waiting in the room for Kurt, trying desperately to do as his twin wanted and calm down. He tried, he really tried, but he couldn't. Every time he thought about Kurt defending that asshole, even after all Blaine had done to him, he felt like punching a wall. Deep down, he wondered if there were still feelings that Kurt had for the other boy, even just a little bit, and the very thought made him so nauseous he had to sit down for a minute. He couldn't hear anything that was going on out in the kitchen because the iPod was still playing in the bedroom, and he honestly preferred it that way. If he had to hear that asshole's voice as he tried defending himself and making himself look like the innocent victim to Kurt, he would probably beat him all over again. And enjoy every minute.

_He doesn't deserve your help or your pity, Kurt. Come on. He got what he deserved._

After a few minutes he took a deep breath and gathered up the courage to peek outside the privacy curtain for a second. Maybe Blaine was gone and he and Kurt could talk about what happened. He took the curtain in his hand and pulled it back just a little, instantly closing it again when the sight of Blaine kissing Kurt met his eyes.

_Oh god. Oh god!_ he thought frantically, his nausea growing stronger by the second. Kurt hadn't exactly been stopping him from kissing him, and the realization made Carson's heart race and his head pound with blood as he paced around the room, unsure what to do with himself.

_Oh my god, he was right. The asshole was fucking _right, he thought as he frantically rooted through Kurt's closet for the bag he had arrived in New York with, beginning to throw his clothes inside. _Things will never change. They'll never get better. Kurt will go back to him every time, and I...I was...I was just a distraction after all. A rebound. I should have known. I should have listened to my gut in the first place and not let myself believe he could possibly love me that way. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh god, I was such a idiot, and I lost my virginity and..._

He sat down sadly on the bed for a second to zip up his full bag, and felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes. He knew, deep down, that even if he had known from the beginning that he was just a rebound, it wouldn't have made any difference. That he loved Kurt so much he wouldn't have cared if all he got was a few weeks of happiness with him. He would have taken it, and he would have been grateful to even get that. This hurt him more than anything else, really. The tears had really started to fall when Kurt finally came back, sighing and sitting beside him on the bed.

"Blaine's gone, and I really hope he doesn't call the police, because..." he began, trailing off as he noticed Carson's face. "Carson, is that your bag...are...are you crying?"

The fact that Kurt was watching him cry only made him cry harder, and Carson looked at him with wet eyes. Kurt looked shocked, and Carson realized that his twin had barely ever seen him cry before. Not like this.

"You kissed him," he managed to croak out, and Kurt looked taken aback.

"What?" he said in disbelief. "Carson, no...no, it's not what you think, he..."

"No, Kurt, listen to me," Carson said, placing a hand out to stop him from speaking any further. "Ever since we started...whatever we started that night in your bed...I always had the fear in the back of my mind that maybe I was just a rebound. And you know what? If you had told me right then and there that you only wanted me to distract you from your hurt over _him_, I...I would have been ok with that," he said, his tears only flowing more freely the longer he spoke. "It would have hurt like hell, but I would rather have had a few weeks of happiness with you than never have any at all."

"But Carson," Kurt protested, "You really don't unders-"

"But then, as time went on," Carson continued, interrupting him, "I let my guard down. I let myself believe that you really loved me. That's what hurts the most, Kurt. And I don't think it's ever going to stop hurting, so I just...I'm done. I'm letting you go. You can go back to Blaine." Kurt's eyes widened at the name, and Carson realized this was also the first time Kurt had heard him refer to the other boy by his actual name. _Guess this is a night for firsts._ " I don't care anymore," he lied. "It hurts, and I'm going to leave now before it gets any worse." He slung his bag over his shoulder and got up from the bed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he walked.

"Carson, no!" Kurt exclaimed, trying to pull him back by the arm, but Carson shook him off, walking as fast as he could across the apartment and shoving the door open. "Carson, wait! Wait! _WAIT, PLEASE!_" He was crying now, following Carson out the door in his bare feet and begging him. "_Carsey, no!_ No, please, you can't...you don't understand, Carson...CARSON!"

Carson ignored him, even though the desperation in Kurt's voice was piercing through his very soul, and made his way out of the building and into the cool night air. He stopped at the side of Kurt's building and slumped down to the ground, his tears overtaking him at last. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cried like he'd never cried before. He cried for what he'd had, and he cried for the happy future he had just lost. He felt like there were walls closing in on him from all sides, even though he was outdoors, and the panic in his chest was rising with every passing second. He just wanted to run away, but he couldn't even find the energy to stop crying and get up off the cold ground.

_It's all my fault, Kurtsie. I should have known better than to get my hopes up when you obviously still loved him. I shouldn't have even put you in this position. I should have stopped you that first night and not let it get any further than one kiss, and then neither of us would have been hurting so much right now. I'm sorry. I love you._

His panic finally subsided and he was out of tears as he sat there staring blankly into the air for a few more minutes. Small droplets of rain started to fall on the concrete, and he decided he should at least get to his car before it started to pour. He could calm down there, and maybe...maybe he could talk to Kurt later and apologize. He gathered his bag and stepped off the curb, heading across the street where he had parked his rental car.

The lightning bolt came out of nowhere.


	26. Chapter 26

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! Ok, first of all, we're sorry for springing that surprise ending on you in the last chapter. Go ahead and throw all your rotten fruit now. *Ducks* Ok, now that you've got it out of your system, we hope you'll forgive us and start reading now to see what happens next. The response for the last chapter has been overwhelmingly emotional, and we're loving all of it. Thank you so much! We love all of you, every last one. Also, for this chapter we just want to note that although we did as much research as we could regarding the medical aspects of this chapter to make it as authentic as possible, we're still not doctors, and hope you will forgive any slight hiccups in reality here if we made any.**

**Ok, I can hear you telling me to shut up so you can find out if Carson is ok, so...let's read!**

Kurt didn't know what to do with himself after Carson left. He couldn't believe any of this was happening right now, although he should have known that his and Carson's happiness was too good and too perfect to last for very long. Apparently he had been foolish to think that life was finally going to allow him to be happy. He went back into the apartment and paced around for a while, trying to gather his thoughts and calm down.

_It's not as bad as you think, Kurt. He didn't even give you a chance to explain, after all. He's just upset, and you know how stubborn he gets when he's upset. Once he's calmed down, he'll listen to what you have to say, and he'll realize you would never leave him to go back to Blaine. That everything is fine and will stay fine, forever, because we...him and I...we're meant to be together. It's fate._

His little mental pep talk made him feel a little bit better, but it still hurt deep in his stomach. It hurt very badly. He hadn't felt this terrible since the day Carson had walked in on him and Blaine in the bedroom, and this time was so much worse. He couldn't stop thinking about Carson's face as he confronted him. He had been crying, and that was extremely disturbing to Kurt. Carson _never_ cried. Well, almost never. Kurt had seen him cry a few times over the years when Carson thought he was alone, mostly in the couple of years following their mother's death, but in general, Carson never cried in front of him. Seeing him fall apart like that tonight was unnerving, and on top of that, he had referred to Blaine by his actual name. Kurt didn't even want to think about how heartbroken Carson must have been to do that, and knowing that it was all because of him was making Kurt hurt even worse.

_I'm sorry, Carsey_, he thought miserably as he made his way into the bedroom, grabbing Carson Teddy from his perch on the dresser and holding it close to his chest as he flopped down onto the bed. The same bed, he realized, that they would have been making love on right now if it weren't for Blaine showing up and spoiling everything.

_Damn it, Blaine. You and your extreme boundary issues are really starting to take their toll on me and my life, and I will NOT take it anymore._ Kurt stroked Carson Teddy's face absentmindedly, his fingers sinking into the soft fuzz, and he started to cry as he hugged the bear as tightly as he could. He hoped maybe Carson would feel it and come back, and then they could talk, and everything would be right again, as it should be. _Don't leave me here alone, Carsey_, he thought as he hugged the bear. _Don't go. There's no reason for you to go. Come back to me._ _We can make this alright._

He lay there in miserable, teary silence for several minutes, and then he frowned. Why should he sit here and cry? What good was that going to do for anyone? No. He was going to talk to Carson and he was going to fix things right _now_. He placed Carson Teddy gently against the pillows on the bed and rooted around in the covers until he found his phone. He took a deep breath and determinedly dialed Carson, placing the phone to his ear and waiting. He heard a buzzing coming from the nightstand and realized, to his utter dismay, that Carson had neglected to take his phone with him in his haste to leave.

_Great. Just awesome_, he thought sadly as he hung up his phone and shoved it in his pocket. _I don't even know where he would have gone. Surely he isn't really going home. Especially not without his phone. He'll figure out that it's gone and he'll have to come back for it, right?_

A sudden loud noise snapped him rudely out of his thoughts, and he let out a little scream as he instinctively covered his ears from what sounded like either one hell of a gunshot or a tremendous explosion happening right outside the building, so loud and forceful that it rattled the windowpanes.

_What the hell was that?_ he thought, his heart beating at a thousand times its normal rate as his hands shook from the shock. He'd never heard a noise like that in his life, least of all here in the city. He shuffled over to his bedroom's window and looked outside curiously, trying to determine the cause of the noise. It was raining pretty steadily now, and Kurt could see puddles starting to accumulate on the sidewalk outside. _Hmm...maybe it was lightning. _He turned his head to the right and frowned, peering closer and practically pressing his nose up against the glass. The rain was making it hard to see very well, but...

_What's that_? he wondered as his eyes fell upon a shape laying in the middle of the street. _Is that...wait, is that a person? What..._

And then he gasped, and he could swear he felt his heart seizing up and refusing to beat as he realized, with startling, terrifying clarity, what he was looking at. Time stood still, and Kurt could only hear static in his ears as he beat his hands against the windowpane.

"Carson!" he yelled, his heart hammering in his chest as he wished desperately for this to be a hallucination, that he would close his eyes and open them and Carson wouldn't be laying lifeless in the street. Or that Carson would hear him and get up and be perfectly fine, and then Kurt could murder him for scaring him like this. _Oh god, that noise...what if he's been hit? Oh my god, please... _

"CARSON!" he screamed again, and then his brain completely shut down. He turned away from the window and hurried out of the apartment on autopilot, pounding down the stairs and out of the building faster than he had in his entire time living there. He ran right outside, into the rain, not caring about getting his clothes wet or the fact that he was in his bare feet and slipping every few steps.

"Carson!" he called, tears spilling from his eyes as he drew closer to his twin's lifeless form. "Carson, oh my god!" He reached him and knelt beside him, unsure what to do but knowing that he needed to do _something_. "Help!" he screamed desperately to the small crowd of onlookers who had gathered under an awning across the street, whispering and talking among themselves as they just stared. "Help me, please!" One horrified looking woman reached for her phone and began to dial. Kurt turned his attention back to Carson and sobbed as he took in the sight of his unconscious, unresponsive twin, noticing the dark singe marks on his clothes but not really registering them.

"Carson, baby, I'm here," he said tearfully, scooping Carson up into his lap and looking around for someplace to drag him to where the rain wouldn't be pounding relentlessly down on them both. He grabbed Carson underneath the arms and began dragging him as gently but as fast as he could over to the sidewalk, settling him down underneath the awning of his apartment building. "Carson," he cried softly now that he could focus a little more. It was the lowest moment of his life, looking at Carson like that and feeling so utterly helpless to make it better.

_Please don't let him die, please...oh god, I'll do anything, just please_...

He placed his ear to Carson's chest and listened, hoping for some sign of life, but heard nothing. No heartbeat, no breath...absolutely nothing. Not that he'd be able to hear a heartbeat over all that rain, even if Carson had one. His twin was so very warm to the touch, as though he had the world's worst fever. Kurt panicked only momentarily before he remembered that he had taken a first aid class as an elective during his time at Dalton, one aspect of which had been basic CPR. He frantically thought back to the class, trying to dredge up everything he could remember through his tears and his haze of unimaginable worry.

_Um...oh god, what was the first step again...fuck, Kurt, THINK. Um...ok, I...I think...yes, I should lay him down first...he's already laying down...oh god...ok...center of the chest...I'm supposed to pump at the center of the chest..._

He gently placed his hands on Carson's chest, his fingers pressing near the top of his ribcage, and silently wished on an imaginary star that he wouldn't severely screw this up. Carson's life was at stake, here.

_His life...oh my god, he could die. HE COULD DIE. Oh god, what would I do? Damn it, Kurt, focus._

He took a deep breath and began pumping fast and steady on Carson's chest, his training on the rubber dummy from his Dalton days rushing back to him as he did it, much to his relief. Pure adrenaline was what was keeping him going now. He had to be strong for Carson. He pumped the requisite number of times, and then he gently tipped Carson's head back, lifting his chin and pinching his nose closed. He covered his twin's mouth with his own and gave him two breaths, watching his chest for any signs of breathing. Nothing.

_Carson, no, you can't do this to me,_ he thought desperately as he resumed pumping at Carson's chest. _You can't die. I won't let you._ He finished pumping and gave Carson two more breaths. Still nothing.

"Carson, baby, come on," Kurt sobbed as he started another set of pumps. "Please breathe for me, Carsey, please. I need you." He gave Carson two more breaths and watched his chest, afraid he would see nothing again. To his relief and amazement, he could make out a slight rising and falling of his twin's chest this time.

"Carson!" he exclaimed, joy momentarily overtaking his worry as he did one more set of pumps and breaths, just in case. He threw himself over Carson's body and sobbed, placing little kisses all over his face as his twin occasionally spasmed on the ground.

"You're going to live, Carsey, do you hear me?" Kurt said as he gently scooped Carson up into his lap. "You're going to live, because I refuse to live without you, so don't you fucking die on me," he said through his tears as he tenderly stroked his fingers through Carson's soaked hair. "Help is on the way, baby. It's coming, just hang on. Please don't leave me." He felt his tears sliding off his face and landing on Carson's, mixing with the rain that was already soaking both of their faces. "I love you, Carson, and I'm sorry. This was all my fault, and you can't...you can't die."

He held him close, every passing minute feeling like hours as he cried and waited for the ambulance to show up. He couldn't even begin to describe how worried and full of despair he was. This was the worst he'd ever felt. Worse than the day their father had a heart attack, and worse even than the day their mother died. As horrible as those things had been, this was a million times worse. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he actually lost Carson. He didn't think he had it in him to go on if Carson died.

"Carsey, you h-have to hang on, baby," he said with a sniffle, brushing the water off of Carson's face with one hand. "For me, you have to." Bits and pieces of their lives flashed through his mind as he held him. He saw them on their first day of high school, Carson reaching into the dirty, smelly dumpster to hoist Kurt up by the arms and lift him out after Puck had thrown him in . He saw them younger, Kurt sitting poised and wide-eyed beside Burt as they watched Carson perform a demonstration with the rest of his martial arts class. He saw Carson watching with a smile on his face as Kurt performed his assigned part of his ballet class' end-of-year recital. He saw them even younger than that, sitting on either side of their mother in bed as she read them a story and then sang them to sleep (_Castle on a Cloud_, Kurt's favorite). He glanced down at Carson, limp and unconscious in his arms, and he swore he could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces as he tried not to think about what life would be like without him.

"There is a castle on a cloud," he began singing softly, partly to comfort Carson, if he could even hear him right now, and partly to distract himself so he didn't cry himself into a stupor. "I like to go there in my sleep..." He held Carson closer and kept an eye on his chest, which was still rising and falling, but just barely. _Hurry up, what's taking so long_, he thought as he continued singing.

"There is a lady all in white...holds me and sings a lullaby...she's nice to see and she's soft to touch...she says "Carson, I love you very much," he sang, inserting his twin's name into the song with a whisper. At last, at long last, he heard an ambulance siren approaching, getting closer every second, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Carsey...Carsey, baby, just hold on a little longer, ok? They're here. Help is here, you've almost...you've almost made it, sweetie, just a little longer, ok?" he pleaded with Carson as the ambulance parked and a team of paramedics exited, carrying the necessary equipment and approaching the twins determinedly. Carson was taken from his arms and Kurt distracted himself momentarily by running back out into the street to retrieve Carson's bag, which was as burnt and singed as his clothes. After that, he had nothing to do except stand there with the bag in one hand and watch, bawling, as they transferred Carson onto a stretcher. He happened to glance down at his shirt and let out a small, anguished cry when he realized there was blood staining it from where Carson's head had been resting. _Oh my god, oh my baby_...

"Will he be ok?" he asked one of the paramedics tearfully as his twin was carefully loaded into the back of the ambulance.

"We hope so, honey," she answered, patting him on the shoulder as she climbed into the ambulance herself. "Are you riding along with us?"

"Yes," answered Kurt quickly, climbing frantically into the back of the ambulance and placing himself beside Carson. He grasped his twin's hand and squeezed gently, glancing down at him with tear-filled eyes. _Carsey, hold on for me, baby, ok? They're taking you to the hospital and then you'll be just fine and then we can go home. And I'll never let you out of my sight again, for the rest of our lives. I don't care if I have to move to Chicago with you. I'm not going to lose you again. _He ignored the blood on his shirt and the nagging in the back of his brain that was telling him that those words might not be true, and tuned out the noise and the voices of the paramedics as they gave each other instructions. Other than to answer a few questions asked of him, he focused entirely on Carson, the only person who mattered right now, and the only person who would ever matter to him.

_Please don't die, sweetheart. Please. I love you._

He wasn't sure how long it was before he finally tuned back into the real world, but when he did the ambulance was pulling into the emergency entrance to the hospital and the crew was opening the doors. They carefully lifted Carson out and rolled him quickly through the doors of the emergency room, giving pieces of information to the nurses who came running to meet them. Kurt caught phrases like "Nineteen year old male," "lightning strike victim, and "received CPR at the scene" as he stubbornly held onto Carson's hand.

_Lightning strike_, he thought in shock, turning the words over in his head as they sank in. He hadn't yet really thought about what had actually happened to Carson, and he didn't want to think about it now. He wondered who'd told the paramedics. Probably the woman who had called them. _Lightning. My baby was hit by lightning._

"Sweetheart, I'm going to ask you to wait out here," one of the nurses said as she placed one hand comfortingly on Kurt's shoulder.

"But...no...no, I need to be with him," Kurt protested, even as they began to roll Carson away from him and down the hall. "NO, please!" he exclaimed in a panic. "Please, I have to be with him! When he wakes up and I'm not there, he'll be scared...please..."

"We'll come get you when he's stabile, ok?" she replied, leading him over to a small, empty waiting area. "Everything's going to be alright. We're going to do all we can to save your brother."

"Carson," Kurt mumbled, staring down at the floor as he hugged his arms around himself. "His name is Carson." It occurred to him that he was still holding onto Carson's wet and singed bag, and his breath caught in his throat as he tried not to look at it.

"Carson," the nurse repeated, patting Kurt on the shoulder once more before turning around and disappearing back down the hallway. Kurt just stood there for a minute, trying to absorb what was happening, but mostly just feeling numb. It was beginning to hit him that the last time he had spoken to Carson had been to plead with him not to leave.

"_It hurts, and I'm going to leave now before it gets any worse."_ Those had been Carson's last words to him, and Kurt couldn't help but feel a painful stab of sorrow in his stomach at the sudden double meaning of the word "leave." _Oh god, what if those were literally his last words to me?...No, Carson, please, you can't do that...you can't leave me...I don't know how to live without you, baby, please..._ He collapsed into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands and crying harder than he ever remembered crying in his entire life. Harder than he had cried at his mother's funeral, or when Burt had been laying in the hospital with a heart attack. This was the worst kind of pain he'd ever experienced. Carson was a part of him, his second half, the literal love of his life. He honestly didn't know what he would do without him, and the very thought that some doctor could come out at any minute and tell him that his life as he knew it was over terrified him.

He sat there like that for a long time, until he was out of tears and had cried himself into a whimpering, shaking mess. It was weird, crying like this without Carson there to comfort him. Carson had always been the rock he depended on when he was sad, and now...he bit his lip to keep from crying anymore as he felt fresh tears prickling the corners of his eyes. He had to do something. He had to keep busy somehow. What was it his dad always said about idle hands?

_Oh god...DAD! He doesn't know, oh my god_, Kurt thought frantically as the thought suddenly occurred to him. Out in Lima, his family were happily going about their lives, probably having a fun Saturday night, and they had no idea that Carson was laying somewhere in this hospital, fighting for his life. Kurt felt the overwhelming urge to cry again, but somehow he managed to suppress it as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, hating absolutely everything about the fact that he had to make this phone call at all. But his dad had to know, and Kurt desperately needed someone to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be ok. Not just an emergency room nurse, but someone familiar. He needed his dad right now, and so did Carson.

With shaking hands, he unlocked his phone and dialed his dad's number before he could lose his nerve. He held the phone up to his ear and waited. And waited. And waited. _Maybe he didn't hear it. I'll try again. _He hung up and dialed again. After six rings, the voicemail picked up again and he realized with a sinking heart that his dad wasn't going to answer right now. He debated leaving a voicemail and decided against it. He had been crying so hard that he didn't think he could be coherent enough to leave a message his dad would understand, anyway. He would call again later. Maybe Carson would be awake and alert by then, and the situation wouldn't be as bad. _Please, please..._

He still felt like he needed to talk to somebody, though, or he would lose any remaining shred of sanity he had left. The only other person he could think of to call was Rachel, so that was what he did. He dialed her number and waited, hoping and praying she would answer, or else he might lose it. Thankfully, she answered on the third ring.

"Kurt?" she said curiously as she picked up the call.

"Rachel," he croaked, surprising even himself at how hoarse and weak his own voice sounded from all the crying and the screaming.

"Kurt, is something wrong?" Rachel asked, sounding concerned. "You sound like you've been crying."

"It...it's C-carson," he managed to get out before he gave up trying to hold back the tears anymore. They came flowing from his eyes in fresh streams, coating his already soaked face. "He...he..."

"What's going on, Kurt?" asked Rachel.

"Carson got s-struck by lightning," Kurt sobbed into the phone. "He's unconscious and I'm at the hospital and they won't let me see him, and I...I don't know what to d-do..."

"Oh my god," said Rachel on the other end of the line. "Kurt, honey, I'm so sorry. Do...do you want me to come over there? I can have Brody take me there right now."

"Would you?" Kurt asked, breathing a sigh of relief at the offer. "I just...I'm alone here and I..."

"It's ok, Kurt. I'll be there as soon as I can, alright?" said Rachel.

"Wait, could you stop by the apartment first?" asked Kurt with a sniffle. "I'm um...I don't have any shoes on, so..."

"Ok...ok, I will," Rachel assured him. "I'll bring you some shoes and a change of clothes, ok? Since you'll be there awhile."

"Thank you," said Kurt, suddenly extremely grateful for Rachel's existence, even if he knew that somewhere in the hospital, Carson was probably subconsciously rolling his eyes. "Thank you so much."

"Hang tight, I'll be there soon," she replied. He explained which hospital they were at and then hung up, grasping his phone in his hand as he sat in his seat, nothing to do now but wait. He tried calling his dad again and still got no answer.

_Dad, come on. Pick up your phone_, he silently pleaded, but to no avail. He sighed and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and wishing that this could just be a horrible nightmare that he was going to wake up from soon. He wondered what would happen when Carson woke up. He'd be in a strange environment, surrounded by people he didn't know poking and prodding at him, and he'd probably be pissed. And then he would look around for Kurt, and Kurt wouldn't be there. _I'm here, though, baby. I'm here, and as soon as they tell me I can see you, I'm going to hold you so tight._ He glanced down at the blood stain on his shirt and winced, trying not to imagine how his twin's head had come to be bleeding. He didn't want to picture it, or else he would cry even more, and he was already nothing but a puddle of tears as it was. He dialed his dad one more time, just in case.

"Hello?" came his dad's gruff voice after the second ring, and Kurt's entire being flooded with relief.

"Daddy?" he squeaked out, even more tears clouding his vision as he let go once more. He hadn't called his father "Daddy" since he was in kindergarten, but right now it was sort of fitting, since that's what he felt like. A scared little boy.

"Kurt?" he asked, sounding worried. "Kurt's what's wrong?"

"Carson's in the h-hospital," Kurt answered through his tears.

"_What_?" Burt exclaimed. "Is he ok? Is he still with you in New York?"

"Yes," said Kurt miserably. "I mean, yes, he's still here in New York, but I...I don't know if he's ok," he added tearfully, becoming more distraught every time it hit him again that he had no idea if Carson was even still alive right now.

"What happened? I'm coming over there as soon as I can, but what happened?"

Kurt told him the same thing he had told Rachel, and Burt grew very quiet on the other end of the line, so quiet that Kurt thought maybe the call had dropped and had to check to see that it hadn't.

"Dad?" he said quietly.

"Kurt, I'm leaving now and I'm gonna catch the first flight I can out there," his father answered after a minute, and Kurt could tell he was either crying or on the verge of it, which made Kurt himself want to cry even more. "Hold on, buddy, ok? Be strong. For both of us and for your brother, be strong. Ok?"

Kurt nodded, forgetting that he was on the phone and his dad couldn't see him. "Yes," he replied shakily. "Ok. I'll try. I just...dad, it's been forever and nobody has told me anything, and there...there was blood...what if he...what if..."

"Shhh, kid, don't think that way," his dad said, and Kurt could hear the sound of clothes hangers rustling together in the background as his dad was probably packing a bag. "Think positive. Carson's a fighter, he's not a quitter. He won't give up that easily, and neither should we. He's gonna make it, ok?"

"Ok," replied Kurt, taking several shaky breaths in an attempt to calm down. "Call me when you get a flight, ok?"

"I will," Burt promised. "I'm leaving now. Sit tight and wait for me, and tell...tell Carson I'm coming, ok?" he asked, his voice cracking and causing a lump to swell in Kurt's throat.

"I will, Dad," he promised, wiping his tears on his wet sleeve.

"I love you. I love you both," said Burt.

"I love you too," Kurt replied, hanging up the phone and slumping in his chair. _Dad's coming, Carson. He's on his way, so you CAN'T die, because that wouldn't be fair if he didn't...didn't get to see you before. So you better fucking still be alive, do you hear me?_

Minutes passed like hours, and Kurt lost track of time completely as he sat in his seat and stared straight ahead, right through everyone and everything in his line of vision. He only snapped back to reality when he heard Rachel's voice out in the hall, asking at the nurse's station where he was.

"I'm in here, Rachel," he called, relief flooding through him now that he knew he wasn't completely alone in this. Rachel appeared in the doorway and Kurt stood up as she set down the plastic shopping bag she was holding and wrapped him in a hug. Rachel wasn't usually the most comforting person in the world, but right now she was all Kurt had, so she may as well have been an angel of mercy.

"Do you know anything yet?" she asked after they had parted from their hug and sat down in neighboring chairs. He shook his head and sniffed.

"Nothing," he said despairingly. "They said they would come find me when they had him stabile, but...but..." he trailed off, waving his hand limply in the air to indicate that he'd heard absolutely nothing since Carson was whisked away from him. Rachel frowned and took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

"I'm sure everything will be ok," she said. "I mean, if he...um...well...if the situation were to have...they would have told you by now, right? No news is good news?"

Kurt pondered her words, realizing with relief that she was probably right. If Carson was dead, he would know about it by now. On the other hand, if Carson was awake, he _also_ would have heard something by now, which could only mean one thing. That Carson was still unconscious, and that so far the doctors hadn't been able to help him. Kurt felt his face crumpling up and he quickly took a deep breath to stop himself from crying anymore. He was exhausted, and he didn't know if he had it in him anymore. He thought back to just twenty-four hours before, when he and Carson were both so happy and holding each other after making love for the first time (of many, Kurt hoped). And now he was sitting here in a dingy hospital waiting room waiting for someone to come out and tell him whether he still had a boyfriend and a brother, or if his world had ended. How the hell did everything always go so wrong for him?

"Oh god, Rachel, what if he dies?" he said quietly, voicing his worry out loud for the first time. "How am I...I mean, I know you two never got along, but he's so important to me. He's my big brother, you know? He's always been there for me and protected me and defended me, and I just...if he dies I won't know what to do. We've barely ever been apart our whole lives. We're so much a part of each other that I honestly don't know if I'm even capable of living without him, and...and..." he broke down as Rachel leaned over to hug him, patting his back reassuringly as he sobbed into her shoulder.

"It'll be ok, Kurt," she said soothingly. "He...he won't die. He'll be alright."

"But he could, Rachel," said Kurt. "I don't know what the lightning did to him. And there was...there was blood, and I..."

"Shhh," said Rachel. "Kurt, he'll be fine. I know he will. He's tough. He'll make it. The doctors are in there right now doing everything they can for him, and he's not going to give up so easily either."

"He really is a fighter, huh?" Kurt agreed, reaching up one hand to wipe his eye.

"Yep," said Rachel with a nod as they parted from their hug. "Besides, if he dies, who will make fun of my nose and call me Trollberry?" she added with a smile. Kurt couldn't help but snort.

"He does like that," Kurt said as Rachel reached up a hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. "You're right. He'll...he'll be ok."

"Of course he will," she agreed, reaching for the plastic bag she had brought with her and opening it. "I, um...I brought you some shoes. The ones you usually go jogging in. And some clothes. Your jeans, and a shirt, and a hoodie I found on your bed because it's a little bit cold tonight..."

She kept talking, but Kurt wasn't listening, because the hoodie in the bag was one of Carson's. He must have forgotten to pack it before he stormed out of the apartment. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted it out of the bag gently, almost reverently, and held it in his hands, stroking the fabric softly as a lone tear trickled out of his eye.

"Oh...that's Carson's, isn't it?" said Rachel quietly, looking from Kurt to the hoodie and back again. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I just grabbed the first things I saw...I didn't mean..."

"It's ok," said Kurt in a choked up voice, carefully placing the hoodie back in the bag and taking the whole thing in his hand. "I...I'm going to go change out of these wet clothes. Will you stay here and come get me if they say anything about Carson?"

Rachel nodded. "Of course, Kurt. You go. I'll keep an eye out."

"Thank you," Kurt said with a sniff as he took the bag into the restroom and locked himself in a stall. He considered slumping against it and crying, but he didn't have any tears left, nor did he have the energy to cry. He simply removed the clean clothing from the bag and changed into it as quickly as possible, hesitating a moment before throwing the hoodie on and zipping it up. It smelled just like Carson, and Kurt wondered how many more times in his life he would smell that wonderful, comforting scent if he lost his twin tonight.

_Stop it, Kurt. Stop it right now. He isn't going to die, so just STOP IT._

He placed his wet clothes in the bag and exited the bathroom, looking hopefully to Rachel as he re-entered the waiting room, but she just shook her head and shrugged. Still no word.

He sat back down in his seat beside Rachel, and the two of them waited. Kurt didn't keep track of the time, but he knew that hours were passing because on the rare occasion that he glanced at the large, round clock hanging on the wall, the hour hand was always in a drastically different place from the last time he looked. _What is taking so long_? he wondered miserably. _How badly was he hurt? I need to know something soon or I swear I'm going to lose it. Carsey, baby, I know that we were never exactly awesome at the whole twin telepathy thing, but can...can you just give me a sign or something to let me know if you're ok? Please? I'm so worried about you, sweetheart, and this whole thing is my fault in the first place. Please?_

He waited, but heard nothing except the drone of the television, which Rachel had turned on and switched to the news. The only thing that broke the monotony was a brief phone call from Burt, letting Kurt know that he had booked a flight out to New York and would be there as soon as he could. Kurt sighed as he hung up the phone and leaned his face in his hand, hoping that this whole nightmare would be over soon and then he could take Carson home and spoil him rotten. He was just about to doze off when someone entered the room. Kurt sat up straighter in his seat and looked hopefully at what he presumed to be a doctor, who was looking at him and Rachel curiously.

"Did one of you come in with Carson Hummel?" he asked. Kurt bolted up out of seat and crossed his arms around himself protectively as Rachel's head snapped away from the TV to look on with interest.

"Me," Kurt choked out, his heart hammering in his chest from the anticipation. "I'm his brother. Where is he? Is he ok? Oh god, is he alive?"

"I'm Dr. Banks," the man said, extending his hand for Kurt to shake. "I've been treating your brother since he was brought in. He's alive," he said, and Kurt breathed the hugest sigh of relief of his life. _Oh Carsey, oh baby, you're alive, you made it, I knew you would..._

"However," Dr. Banks continued before Kurt could say anything, "he is in very critical condition."

Kurt's heart stopped again and his breath hitched. "What...what do you mean, critical condition?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?"

"Your brother was hit by a lightning bolt," said Dr. Banks, and Kurt nodded.

"I know," he said.

"The lightning caused some mostly superficial burns over much of his upper body, and his body temperature was dangerously high when he was brought in," Dr. Banks continued. "We induced therapeutic hypothermia, which means we packed his body in ice to bring his temperature down to a normal level. The strike also caused brief cardiac standstill, but he's stabilized for now. There won't be any way of knowing the extent of the damage caused by the lightning until he wakes up and can communicate with us."

"Wait, you mean he hasn't woken up yet?" asked Kurt, his heart sinking as Dr. Banks shook his head.

"That's the other thing," he said sympathetically as Kurt felt Rachel taking his hand in support. "Your brother has also suffered a rather significant head injury, I assume from being thrown back on the ground by the force of the lightning. For all intents and purposes, he's in a coma right now. We don't know when he will wake up..."

"But he _will_ wake up, right?" asked Kurt in a panic. "I mean, he...he won't..."

"His head injury wasn't severe enough for death to be an immediate concern," assured Dr. Banks. "The likelihood of him waking up within a few days to a week is very high, but he will more than likely be facing some complications when he wakes up, from a combination of the head trauma and the injuries he sustained from the lightning."

"What kind of complications?" asked Kurt, his stomach twisting with dread as he awaited the answer.

"Hard to say at this point," said Dr. Banks. "As I said, we really won't know until he wakes up, but you should probably be prepared for him to experience mild amnesia, confusion, headaches, pain from the burns, that sort of thing."

_Oh god, Carson, baby, I am so sorry I ever let you leave the apartment tonight._ "Can I see him?" asked Kurt, somehow managing not to choke up and start crying again. Dr. Banks nodded.

"He's in a room in intensive care," he said as he led Kurt out of the room. "You can see him, but just keep in mind that he's not conscious. He may or may not be able to hear you, so you can still talk to him."

"I'll stay out here, Kurt," called Rachel, and Kurt nodded.

"If my dad comes, will you tell him where we are?" he called back, and she nodded. He turned his attention back to Dr. Banks and followed the man down the hall and into an elevator, where the doctor pressed the button for the fifth floor. It seemed like it took forever for the elevator to arrive at its destination, and Kurt was sure his heart was going to burst out of his body as he waited, so anxious was he to see Carson. Touch him, hold his hand, make sure he was still breathing and alive. He followed Dr. Banks out of the elevator and down the hall to a closed door, which the doctor opened and gestured for Kurt to enter. Kurt did, and let out a gasp when his eyes settled on the bed in the center of the room.

Carson was laying in it, looking so small and helpless in the midst of all the tubes and monitors he was hooked up to. His eyes were closed and sunken, his skin was as pale as Kurt had ever seen it, and there was a large white bandage adorning his head. He didn't look a thing like the vibrant, healthy Carson that Kurt was used to, and it scared him to see his twin like that.

"Go ahead and sit with him," said Dr. Banks gently, pointing to a chair near the bed. "Talk to him, touch him. Let him know you're here. He may be able to hear you. I'll let you have some privacy. Have one of the nurses find me if you have any questions." He patted Kurt on the shoulder and exited the room, softly closing the door behind him and leaving Kurt alone with Carson, who didn't react at all. Kurt swallowed and slowly approached the bed, wishing he could somehow magically make Carson open his eyes and look at him. He looked dead, and even though Kurt knew he wasn't, it was unnerving.

"Carsey," he whispered as he arrived next to the bed. He gingerly reached for Carson's hand and held it in his own, gently running his thumb across the knuckles and swallowing the lump that was rapidly growing in his throat. "Carsey, can you hear me? It's Kurtsie, honey. I...I'm here." Carson didn't react, and Kurt felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes again, even though he thought he had cried all the tears he had in him earlier that evening. Apparently, he had been wrong. He pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat in it, taking Carson's hand back in his and gently stroking it as he gazed upon his twin's face. It was the worst thing he'd ever seen, Carson laying in a hospital bed like this, so unresponsive and lifeless. He wished with all his heart that it was him in that bed instead. He'd deserve it, for causing all of this in the first place.

"Carson," he said softly, stroking his hand and getting closer and closer to sobbing as he spoke. "Carson, I...baby, I'm so sorry. This was all my fault. I should have answered one of Blaine's calls earlier and told him it was over so that he wouldn't have shown up. I should have pushed him away sooner when he kissed me. I should have insisted that you listen to me explain what happened, and I should have stopped you from leaving. I should have done any of those things, and maybe if...if I had, then you wouldn't be here right now. God, Carson, I feel so guilty. I love you so much, and the last thing I ever wanted to see was you hurt like this." He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing and sniffed.

"I wish it was me, Carson. I wish I could switch places with you, because I'd do it in a heartbeat if it meant saving you. You're my world, sweetheart. You've always been my world, and I just...Carson, I can't handle life without you. You have to wake up and get better, because I honestly don't think I have it in me to go on if I don't have you. You are so important to me. You...you're the love of my life," he said in a whisper. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Carson's lips, getting no reaction from his twin at all, and felt his heart sinking in disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Carsey," he whispered, positioning himself so that his head was resting on the side of Carson's pillow, next to his brother's head. He continued holding Carson's hand and lifted his free hand up to Carson's face, stroking it tenderly. "I love you. Please forgive me?" He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, not realizing until now just how exhausted he was. He let the rhythmic beeping of Carson's heart monitor lull him to sleep as he dreamed of the shared dreams and happy future that may or may not have been shattered forever in a matter of minutes.

_Come back to me, Carsey._

Kurt slowly opened his eyes hours later, blinking as he took in his surroundings. At first, he had no idea where he was, just that it was dim and strange and definitely not home. His eyes landed on Carson, and he felt a dry hand in his own clammy one, and suddenly everything came rushing back. The lightning. The endless hours of waiting and worrying. He sat up and yawned, hoping that Carson would open his eyes and say something. Maybe "Morning, beautiful," or "How's my Kurtsie?" He didn't, of course. He lay there as motionless as ever, and Kurt felt a wave of sadness as he realized that he had no idea how long Carson was going to be in this state."Good morning, Carsey," he whispered, stroking his thumb across the skin of Carson's hand and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm still here, baby. I'm not going anywhere, ok?"

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," said a familiar voice, and Kurt turned to see his father sitting in a second chair across the room. Burt looked like he'd had just as rough a night as Kurt had. His clothes were rumpled and his face was puffy, as though he'd been crying, which, Kurt reasoned, he probably had been.

"Dad?" said Kurt, sitting up but not letting go of Carson's hand. "How long have you been here?"

"About three hours," Burt replied. "They showed me to the room as soon as I got here. Saw your friend Rachel in the waiting room and told her to go home and get some sleep."

Kurt nodded. "Thanks. I forgot all about her."

"Anyway, I came in here, and..." Burt trailed off and cleared his throat, as though he were trying not to start crying again. "I saw you boys, and I just..." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Kurt, you have no idea how worried I was on the plane over here. Just the thought that I could lose one of you, I just...it scared me, kid. I tried to be positive with you over the phone, but I was scared to death that I was going to be too late. That he was gonna leave us."

"Yeah, well, I told him not to," said Kurt, trying to lighten the mood. "He usually does what I tell him." He gave his father a small smile, which Burt returned as he got up from his seat and crossed over to Kurt, wrapping him in a hug.

"That was how I knew he'd still be here when I got here," said Burt. "I knew the chances of him leaving you were slim to none."

"It hurts, Dad," said Kurt, trying not to cry again as he hugged him tight. "Seeing him like this. I just want him to wake up and for everything to be ok."

"So do I, buddy. So do I." Burt parted from the hug and turned his attention over to Carson, taking one of his hands while Kurt took the other. "Don't go anywhere, kid," he said softly to him. "The world's not done with you yet, and you've got a lot to do before you leave. I'm waiting patiently to see that first copy of the _New Yorker_ with your name on it as editor."

"And I'm not done loving you yet," whispered Kurt, kissing Carson gently on the forehead. "And I never will be. Don't leave me, Carsey. Please." He thought he might have seen Carson's mouth twitch a little, but he decided it was probably just his imagination.

* * *

Kurt spent much of that day planted firmly by Carson's side, refusing to leave for almost any reason. He only left to go to the bathroom, and he only did that when it was extremely necessary. Otherwise, he stayed right in his seat by Carson's bedside, holding his hand and watching over him, occasionally whispering an "I love you" or a "Stay strong for me, Carsey" into his twin's ear, or kissing him on the cheek. He always hoped for some sign that Carson had heard him or felt him, but he never got one. It was both frustrating and heartbreaking. He wanted more than anything for Carson to sit up and say something. Anything. Even if it was to yell at him some more for that Blaine kiss. He just wanted to hear his voice again so badly.

"Kid, you should get out of this room for a little while," Burt said that afternoon, walking up to behind Kurt and placing his hands comfortingly on his shoulders. "Get some fresh air. Eat. Get some sleep."

"_No,_ Dad!" Kurt protested vehemently, shocked that his father would even suggest such a thing. "I can't just leave. What if he wakes up for a minute and I'm not here? He'll be so scared, and I'll hate myself. I'm staying," he said stubbornly, and Burt sighed.

"He'll still be here when you get back, buddy. In the same state. You heard the doctors. He...he's not going to wake up any time soon," Burt said gently. "You shouldn't neglect yourself. It won't do Carson any good."

"I'm staying," Kurt insisted, squeezing Carson's hand and turning his attention back to him, checking for any signs of life since the last time he'd looked. There weren't any.

_But there could be. Any minute now, there could be._

He must have dozed off again after Burt gave up trying to get him to take a break, because the next time he opened his eyes it was nighttime and there was a bag from McDonalds sitting on the small table beside him. He blinked and looked at it before his eyes wandered over to his dad, who was back in the room's other chair.

"Thought you might be hungry," said Burt, nodding toward the bag of food. "Should still be hot. And before you yell at me, I didn't get any of the junk for myself. I got salad." Kurt smiled a little and nodded, his stomach growling at the smell of the food. He _was_ pretty damn hungry, and he knew that Carson would insist that he eat. He opened the bag and took out the burger, taking delicate bites and savoring each one while simultaneously feeling guilty that he was sitting here eating fast food when Carson couldn't. He knew that if Carson was awake, he would be sitting beside him, or possibly Kurt would be sitting in his lap, and they both would have identical burgers but Carson would give Kurt the pickles off of his, because Carson hated pickles and Kurt liked them. He didn't feel much like finishing as he felt his eyes welling up at the thought.

"I'll be back in a minute, ok?" said Burt, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm gonna call Carole and fill her in on what's happening."

"Ok," replied Kurt, not taking his eyes off of Carson as he set the rest of the burger back in the bag and took his twin's hand again. He wondered where Carson's mind was right now. If he was scared, or lonely. If he was looking for Kurt and couldn't find him.

_I'm right here, baby. Right here. And I love you so much. You're going to wake up soon, and everything will be ok. I promise._ He took the opportunity while nobody was in the room to place a soft kiss on Carson's lips, parting from it not a moment too soon, because a nurse entered the room right as he sat back in his seat.

"Evening," she greeted him, and Kurt gave her a small smile in reply as she bustled about checking on Carson and noting things down on his chart.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Kurt asked her, and she gave him a sympathetic smile as she checked his heart monitor.

"Wish I could tell you, honey," she said, frowning as she looked at the monitor. She glanced at Carson, placing one hand on his chest and returning her attention to the monitor.

"Is something wrong?" asked Kurt, his stomach seizing up as he watched her press a button on the wall. The words "Code blue in room 501" was all he heard before he had a complete meltdown. He was pushed to the side, screaming and sobbing as a team of doctors and nurses started flooding into the room, surrounding Carson and calling out various instructions to each other that Kurt didn't understand and didn't want to.

"Carson!" he screamed, watching in utter panic as one of the doctors pulled out a defibrillator and prepared to use it. "Carson!" He felt hands on his shoulders and turned around to see that Burt had returned, his face pale and full of as much panic as Kurt felt.

"Daddy," Kurt sobbed as Burt held him close.

"What's going on?" he demanded "What's happening? _What's happening to my son_?"

"He's gone into cardiac arrest, sir," one of the doctors replied, and Kurt felt like throwing up as the doctor with the defibrillator approached Carson with the paddles. _Carson, no! You can't do this to me, it was bad enough with you in a coma, don't do this..._

"Clear!" someone called, and the defibrillator paddles were applied to Carson's chest, causing him to spasm. Kurt choked on a sob as nothing happened and the team used the defibrillator on him again. And again. And again.

"Clear!" they kept shouting, but still nothing happened. Kurt felt his dad's grip on him getting tighter with every passing second, and he felt like his entire world was melting away as he silently begged Carson to respond.

"Clear!" he heard one more time, and the defibrillator paddles were used again. And still nothing happened.

"Let's call it," he heard, and his stomach felt like a block of ice. "Time of death..."

"_NOOOOOOOOOO_!" Kurt screamed, struggling against the hold his father had on him and trying to rush over to Carson. "No, let me go, _let me go, fucking let me go! _CARSON!" He felt like a caged animal. He had to get free. He had to go over to Carson and hold him and beg him to come back, because Carson would listen to him. He would. He finally managed to break free of Burt's grip and rushed over to Carson, pushing aside several doctors on his way and throwing himself over his twin's body.

"Carson, baby, no, please, no, you can't do this, you can't leave!" he sobbed. "We had so many plans, and you're too young and I'm sorry, I'm sorry about Blaine, I'm sorry about everything, just please don't leave me!" He buried his face in Carson's shoulder and sobbed. He wanted to just curl up and die.

"Kurt," he heard his father say in a choked up voice, and then another, unfamiliar voice, probably one of the doctors, said "Wait," and Kurt felt something moving underneath him. It took him a minute to figure out that it was Carson's chest rising and falling, and he quickly pulled away to look and make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He wasn't. Carson was still as unconscious as ever, but he was breathing. He was alive.

"Heartbeat has resumed," he heard someone say. "All clear." If he lived to be a thousand years old, he didn't think he ever could come up with the words to adequately describe how relieved he felt at that moment as he hugged Carson as well as he was able to through all the tubes and wires.

"Carson, oh my god, oh my baby," he chanted through his tears, peppering Carson's face with kisses. "Oh god, baby, don't scare me like that ever again, do you hear me?" A pair of hands gently pulled him up and directed him away from the bed, and he struggled momentarily before Burt crossed the room and took his hand.

"Come with me, buddy," he said hoarsely, and Kurt realized he must have been crying, too. "They're kicking us out for a minute while they work on him and run tests."

"Just for a little bit," a doctor reassured them, and Kurt reluctantly stood up, giving Carson's cheek a soft caress.

"I'll be back, Carsey, ok?" he said. "_Please_ don't die while I'm gone." He allowed Burt to lead him out into the hall just outside Carson's door, where they both leaned against the wall and stood there in complete silence. Kurt imagined they were probably both thinking the same things. Well, maybe not entirely the same. Kurt was in shock, too shocked even to cry anymore. He was thinking about how close he had just come to losing his brother, his boyfriend, and...and his future husband. There would never be another man for him, nobody who could compare to Carson, or even try. He needed Carson to wake up, to get better and stronger so that they could live their lives together. A life without Carson wasn't a life he was interested in living. He heard a choking gasp coming from beside him and glanced over at Burt, who was standing with his head turned toward the ceiling, his eyes closed as he cried quietly.

"Dad?" he said, reaching for his hand and taking it gently.

"I'm alright, Kurt," Burt replied hoarsely. "I was just...I was just having a little conversation with your mom, wherever she is. Apologizing for not putting in more of an effort with Carson, no matter how much he pushed people away." Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to cry again as he looked down at his shoes.

"No, dad," he said, shaking his head. "I should be the one feeling guilty. I...I promised Mom that I would take care of Carson, and look," he said, waving his hand around to indicate their surroundings. "I clearly failed him, _and_ her."

Burt wrapped him in a tight hug then, and Kurt struggled not to sob as his own words sank in. "Kurt, no. This wasn't your fault, or my fault, or anyone's fault. Sometimes crap just happens to good people, but Carson is fighting. He is, and he'll beat this."

"I know," said Kurt, giving up the fight and letting the tears come. "I just want him back."

"So do I, kid."

Kurt absolutely refused to leave Carson's side again after he was finally allowed back in the room. He stayed there throughout the night, holding Carson's hand and singing him soft lullabies as he waited patiently for his brother to wake up. It didn't happen, but Kurt knew it would eventually. It had to, or he would break. He fell asleep again and only woke up the next morning when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. It was his boss, Isabelle.

"Hello?" he said quietly, even though he knew he could sing the full score of _Wicked_ right now and Carson wouldn't wake up.

"Kurt?" said Isabelle on the other end of the line. "I was just calling to check on you because you didn't show up this morning and you didn't call. Are you ok?"

Crap. He'd forgotten to let work know he wouldn't be in today. "Actually, Isabelle, um...I'm not going to be in today," he said, clearing his throat and trying to make his voice sound less rough. "I'm at the hospital. It's my brother."

"Oh my god," said Isabelle. "Is he ok?"

"He's in pretty serious condition, actually," replied Kurt. "He's unconscious and they...they don't know when he'll wake up, and I just..."

"Honey, say no more," said Isabelle reassuringly. "You take all the time off you need. Stay with your brother and take care of him, ok?"

"Ok," Kurt said slowly, letting her words sink in. "I...I'll do that. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Kurt. Keep us posted, ok?"

"Ok." He hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket with a sigh, looking over at Carson and checking for any signs of consciousness. As usual, there were none.

"They're pretty understanding over at _Vogue_, huh?" said Burt from his corner. Kurt looked over and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess they are," he agreed, gently rubbing Carson's hand. "I don't suppose he woke up for five minutes overnight while I was asleep, did he?"

Burt shook his head. "Nope," he said quietly. "He will, though. I know he will."

Kurt nodded and kissed Carson's cheek. A young nurse entered the room and looked at them uncertainly.

"Um, Kurt Hummel?" she asked, and Kurt waved his hand at her.

"That's me," he said.

"Uh, there's a young man here to see you," she said. "He isn't family, so I'm not supposed to let him into the room, but he said he would wait for you. He's in the waiting room."

Kurt felt his stomach seizing up with suppressed anger as he realized who she was talking about. _He has some nerve showing up here now, after all he's caused...fuck him, I don't want to see him...wait...yes...yes I do. I have a few things to say..._

"Thank you," he said with as big a smile as he could fake. "I'll meet him out there in a minute." He patted Carson's hand gently and stood up. "I'll give him hell for you, Carsey," he whispered. To his dad he smiled and tried to look relatively normal.

"It's Blaine," he said, trying not to clench his teeth. "He was here this weekend before the...before this happened, and I guess he's come to check up on us. I'll only be a few minutes. Stay here, ok? I don't want Carson to be alone."

"Sure, kid," Burt agreed. "Say hi to Blaine for me, ok?"

"I will," said Kurt. _I'll say a lot more than that, trust me._ He left the room, closing the door softly behind him, and stalked off in the direction of the waiting room. The sight of Blaine sitting there filled him with righteous anger, and he had to hold himself back from punching him in the face right then and there.

"Kurt," Blaine said with a smile as he stood up, holding out a bouquet of flowers like a peace offering. "I, um...I heard about Carson," he said solemnly.

"How?" asked Kurt, the question suddenly occurring to him.

"What?"

"How did you hear?" Kurt repeated.

"Oh, well, um...uh...Rachel," replied Blaine, looking uncomfortable. "I came by your place again to apologize and she told me what happened. I'm so sorry, Kurt. Is he ok?"

"And you care because...?" asked Kurt bitterly, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at him. "It's not like you and him are best buddies. In fact, I'm pretty sure neither of you can stand the other, so why don't you cut the bullshit and tell me why you're really here?"

Blaine frowned and toyed with the flowers in his hand. "I just...I came to apologize," he explained, fixing Kurt with the sad puppy dog look he always gave him when he wanted something. "I may have been a little, um...pushy..."

"Arrogant asshole is the term that comes to mind, actually," said Kurt dryly.

"Anyway," Blaine said with a wince, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry that you were so upset about the cheating, and...maybe you could give me one more chance? I know you're going through a hard time right now, but..."

"Are you fucking _kidding me_?" Kurt exclaimed, his emotions exploding in a fiery volcano of anger and resentment. He couldn't believe what he was hearing right now. "I'm sorry, do you have any idea what I'm going through right now? _Do you? _You have the steel fucking balls to come in here pretending that you give a shit about Carson, and then ask me to forgive you for what you did? You do _not_ get to take advantage of my emotional state right now to give me that sad puppy shit. If I may direct your memory to just before prom, I was ready to be done with your ass _then_, and you _begged_ me to give you a second chance. And I was stupid enough to give you one, and what did you do with it? Fucked somebody else at the first opportunity when you were the one who made sure I would be apart from you in the first place. Did you really think that I was going to fall back into your arms when you didn't even care enough about this relationship to keep your dick in your pants for two weeks? Guess what? It's not going to happen. I'm out of chances to give you. I'm done. If Carson were awake and _conscious_ right now, he'd be telling you to shove that pathetic apology right up your ass, and since he can't say that, I'm going to. Just like I should have done in the first place."

Blaine listened to this speech silently, looking down at his feet and rolling his eyes toward the ceiling with a sigh. "Ok, ok, you're upset right now. I get it. But Kurt...Kurt, baby, we're soulmates. Don't you understand? Maybe I can come back later and..."

_"Oh my GOD, Blaine!_" Kurt screeched, and he knew that by now he probably had the attention of all the bored nurses in the hall. This was probably the most entertainment they'd seen all morning, and Kurt didn't even care. In fact, he preferred it if it embarrassed Blaine more. "Are you fucking dumb or do you have some kind of mental block I'm not aware of that causes you to completely lose touch with reality? You and I are _done_. Get out. Leave me alone. Don't call me, don't send me shit, don't show up at my apartment, and sure as hell don't show up at the hospital where the most important person in the world to me is fighting for his life. Just _don't."_

Blaine gave him a long, hard look and shook his head, tossing the bouquet of flowers on a nearby chair and sighing. "Whatever," he said. "If you change your mind, and you will, you know where to find me." He pushed past Kurt and stalked out of the waiting room. Kurt closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to collect his thoughts. He felt kind of proud of himself right now. He knew that if Carson were awake, he would be proud, too.

"I did it, Carsey," he said to him in a whisper later that day, after Burt left to go take a shower and pick up some food. "I made sure that Blaine knows we're through. You would have been so proud of me, baby. If it wouldn't have gotten me arrested, I would have smacked him upside the head." He held Carson's hand and rubbed at his knuckles softly, wishing that his twin would squeeze his hand back. As usual, nothing happened. He sighed and kissed Carson softly on the lips. He missed him so much, and it hurt like hell. He wanted to hear his voice again. He wanted to feel his lips on his skin. Most of all, he wanted to curl up next to him and cuddle him and sleep like they always had. He bit his lip and looked at the bed, assessing the situation. He wondered if maybe he _could_ lay with him. If anyone would mind. He decided that if he was super careful, there was just enough room next to Carson for him to curl up in.

Carefully, calculating every move he made so as not to disturb Carson in the slightest, Kurt slowly climbed onto the bed and settled himself in beside his twin, almost sobbing at how good it felt to be laying next to him again after so long. He made himself as small as he could and curled up into Carson's body, placing one hand over his twin's chest to feel his heartbeat. It was weak, but it was there.

"Carsey, I love you," he whispered, taking comfort in the faint _thump thump_ he could feel under his fingers. "I can't wait for you to wake up. I'm going to take you home, and I'm going to spoil you so much that you're not even gonna know what to do with yourself. All the times you spoiled me and treated me like a prince are going to pale in comparison to the way I'm going to spoil you, trust me. And I'm never going to let you go again. We're going to grow old together and travel and live and love and...and...I don't know...just...everything, Carsey. We're going to do everything." He leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, sighing as he settled back and stroked his face gently. "You and I were made for each other, sweetheart. And I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you."

He snuggled a bit closer to Carson and sighed, letting the beeping of the various monitors, and the reassuring beating of Carson's heart under his hand, lull him to sleep.

* * *

Day after day went by, and Carson's condition remained more or less the same. There weren't any more scary incidents of cardiac arrest, but neither were there any signs that he would wake up any time soon. Finn and Mercedes called Kurt at different times to check up on Carson and see how Kurt was doing, and he badly wished that he had good news to share with them.

Before Kurt knew it, a whole week had passed, and still Carson remained unconscious. He didn't know how much more he could take. It was killing him inside to see Carson like this and not be able to do anything about it. More and more he was wishing that it had been him who was struck by lightning. He'd deserve it more than Carson, who had never done anything but love him and trust him. The doctors assured him and Burt that Carson would eventually wake, they just didn't know when. But the waiting was brutal, and Kurt wished he had a time machine to he could fast forward to the glorious day that Carson opened his eyes again. Or better yet, go back in time to prevent any of this from happening in the first place.

He left the room for only a few hours every couple of days to go shower at the apartment and change his clothes and keep Rachel updated on what was going on. He'd very nearly had a complete breakdown the last time he did this, because he had suddenly had the notion in his head to sit down with Carson's forgotten phone and go through it. He intended to listen to his voicemail greeting, but instead had ended up going through his internet history, choking back sobs as he saw that Carson had been Googling things like "Romantic date ideas" and "Apartments for rent, NYC." Carson had been happily trying to plan their future, and everything had gone so very, very wrong. He wondered, as he sat vigil alone at Carson's bedside one night and stared sadly at his twin's sleeping face, what their mother would have to say about this. He had thought about her off and on ever since the day Burt had brought her up, and he had been trying to squash the feeling in his gut that he had utterly failed her. After all, he and Carson had both promised her that they would take care of each other. Carson had done his best. Had Kurt?

_I'm sorry, Mom_, he thought sadly as he rubbed his thumb across Carson's hand. _I promised I would look out for Carson, and I sucked at it. If I was a halfway decent brother, he wouldn't be laying in this bed right now, and we would be happy together. I'm sorry. I let you both down._ He felt tears prickling his eyes and he didn't even bother to restrain them. He let them fall as he cried softly, and he was so caught up in his feelings that the twitch of Carson's hand in his own didn't register at first. Neither did he notice the slow fluttering of Carson's eyes as they opened and settled on him. He didn't notice either of those things. He didn't realize anything until he heard a small, weak voice breaking through the monotonous beeping and humming of the machines that filled the room.

"Kurtsie? Why are you crying, baby?"

* * *

_He didn't know where the hell he was, but he didn't like it. It was small and dark, and more importantly, Kurt wasn't there, and that was enough to make him hate this place, wherever it was. He looked around for an exit, some way to escape, but there wasn't one. He was trapped in here._

_"Kurt?" he called out, hoping that his twin would hear him and be able to save him from this stupid place. "Kurtsie?" He heard a noise behind him and turned around, hoping for Kurt but seeing a dark, hooded figure instead. The figure grabbed at his hand, and he struggled, trying to break free from its grip. It was stronger than him, though, and he was powerless to stop it as it led him down a seemingly neverending hallway (when had this place turned into a hallway? Had it always been one?). _

_"Let me go," he demanded. "Let me go NOW. I have to find Kurt. I'm not going anywhere with you until I find him...fuck, why is it so DARK?" He tried to yank his hand away and was unsuccessful._

_"Let me go!" he repeated. "Please!"_

_"Let him go," said a voice, and Carson frowned as the hooded figure stopped and let go of his hand. That voice was so familiar._

_"Mom?" he said, turning around and gasping as he saw his mother standing there, wearing the dress that had always been her favorite. The one with all the flowers on it. "Mom?"_

_"Hi, baby," she said with a smile, and Carson felt like crying. It had been so long since he'd heard her call him that. Or heard her voice at all._

_"Mom, what's going on?" he asked. 'Where's Kurt?...KURT...he's going to want to see you...come on, let's go find him..."_

_His mother shook her head. "No, honey. Not now. It's not time for him to see me yet. And it's not time for you, either. You're going the wrong way." She smiled and took his hand, leading him in the opposite direction, and Carson could see a small sliver of light at this end of the hallway. "You're supposed to go that way. You're not done over there yet. Not for a long time." She squeezed his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek. "Go on."_

_"But..." Carson protested, but she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. He felt momentarily sad at losing her again, but did as she instructed and began walking in the right direction. The light grew larger the closer he came to it, and he could hear something...was that Kurt?...it sounded like Kurt...but he was crying..._

He slowly opened his eyes, the long hallway in his mind slowly fading away and replaced with disorientation as he tried to make out where he was. He couldn't. All he could determine was that he wasn't in the hallway anymore and his mother was gone. And...and Kurt was there. He could feel him. He could feel his hand. And he could hear him. He was definitely crying.

"Kurtsie? Why are you crying, baby?"


	27. Chapter 27

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: We apologize that this chapter was slightly later than we promised. Mother's Day weekend sort of put a cramp in the publishing schedule. But anyways, here we are with another new chapter. We've been absolutely loving seeing all of your reactions to the way the story is going, and I know that we always say this, but reading your responses really does make this all worth it for us. *Big cheesy grin* We love you guys. So, let's check in on how Carsey is doing, shall we?**

"Kurtsie? Why are you crying, baby?"

Kurt didn't dare to believe his ears at first. With his track record of bad luck, he thought that surely he had been hearing things. That he wanted to hear Carson's voice so badly that his mind had tricked him into believing that he had heard it. Which was why he didn't even look up right away, instead closing his eyes and trying to mentally shake himself back to reality. _It wasn't him. If I look up, he's still going to be unconscious and if I let myself believe that was him, then it will hurt like hell when I see that it wasn't. Just keep your eyes closed, Kurt, and you'll be fine._

"Kurtsie?" came Carson's voice again, and Kurt felt a hand reach out and weakly stroke his face. Or try to, anyway. It actually missed his face and was stroking his ear, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that it definitely wasn't Kurt's own hand, nor could it be anyone else's except...

His heart started hammering in his chest, so fast that Kurt thought his heartbeat could probably be heard around the world at the moment. He swallowed the quickly forming lump in his throat and allowed himself to look up. Carson was staring at him with a confused expression on his face, his eyes squinting as they adjusted and his eyebrows furrowed together in concentration.

"What's wrong, baby? I'm here, Kurtsie. Please don't cry," he said in a weak whisper, and Kurt only had to look at him for three seconds before he lost any sense of composure.

"Carson," he whispered, reaching a hand up to gently grasp the one touching his face. The fingers twitched under his touch and Carson blinked at him. "Carson," he repeated, a little louder this time, and he quickly stood up from his chair and wrapped his arms around his twin, holding him as tightly as he dared and trying to be mindful of all the tubes and wires. The whole world came crashing down around him and all he could focus on was the fact that he was holding Carson, and Carson was alive, and he was speaking, and oh god, he was never going to let him go again.

"Carson, baby, oh my god," he said, sobbing into his twin's shoulder as he felt Carson weakly hug him back. He didn't think it would be possible to cry harder than he had right after Carson's accident, but apparently it was, because the tears were flowing and they weren't about to stop any time soon. "Carson," he whispered as he lifted his head and began peppering Carson's face with tiny kisses. "Carsey, my baby. I was so worried I'd lost you."

Carson frowned and blinked at him. "Lost me?" He slowly turned his head, his eyes roaming around the room and his frown growing bigger as he took in his surroundings, looking extremely confused. "Kurt...where am I?"

"You're in the hospital, sweetheart," answered Kurt gently as he reached one hand up to stroke Carson's hair. "You...um...you had a little accident, but you're going to be ok, and..."

"An accident?" Carson interrupted, looking very worried indeed as his eyes widened and he looked at Kurt in alarm. "What kind of accident? Car accident? Oh god, were you with me? Were you ok? Were you hurt?" He reached one hand out, clearly trying to stroke Kurt's arm but only succeeding in flailingly batting at it. Kurt took his hand and stroked it softly, placing a kiss on it before he wrapped Carson back into his embrace.

"No, baby. Not a car accident. You...you don't remember what happened?" he asked, Dr. Banks' warning of temporary amnesia flashing through his brain as he spoke. _Oh god, I wonder what else he doesn't remember if he doesn't remember the lightning strike. Does...does he remember US?_

Carson shook his head. "No..." he said slowly, frowning as he tried to think. "I...the last thing I remember was...ugh...I don't know...I can't think...it hurts..."

"Shhh, Carsey, don't worry about it," Kurt soothed as he held him close. "Don't worry about it, baby. You're ok now. You're going to be ok. I'm going to take such good care of you, and it's all going to be fine. You'll see."

"Hey, kid, I just got off the phone with Finn," said Burt as he strolled into the room, shoving his cell phone into the pocket of his jeans. "He said to say..." He trailed off as his eyes landed on the twins and he took in the sight before him, Carson awake and Kurt clinging to him as though both of their lives depended on it. He froze where he was, blinking at them for a minute and apparently forgetting all about what Finn had said. Kurt smiled at him.

"Dad, look," he said, giving Carson a gentle squeeze. "Look," he repeated, tears of joy flowing from his eyes that he wasn't even going to try to wipe away, because that would involve letting go of Carson, and that certainly wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"Carson?" their father said softly, taking a few steps closer to the bed.

"Hi, Dad," replied Carson, giving him a weak smile, and that was all it took to spur Burt into action. He crossed over to the bed quickly, looking at the boys with eyes brimming with tears before leaning down and wrapping the both of them up into a firm but gentle hug. "I knew it, buddy," he said excitedly. "I knew it. I knew you would come back to us. I knew as long as your brother was here, you wouldn't be going anywhere." Kurt felt himself choke up more at those words, thinking sadly that he had no idea what Carson did or did not remember regarding their romantic relationship. Not that he was going to push it right now. No, he was lucky that he had Carson living and breathing in his arms right now, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that his twin felt like the most loved, cherished, and spoiled guy on the face of the earth.

"I hurt," Carson mumbled in a small, strained voice, and Burt let go of the twins, looking at Carson with deep concern.

"Duh, what's wrong with us?" he said, shaking his head. "You need the doctor...I'll be right back, kid...don't go anywhere, ok?"

"Where am I going to go?" asked Carson, and Kurt couldn't help but smile a little at the slight edge of irritation in his voice. That sounded like the Carson he knew and loved. Burt ignored it and hurried out of the room in search of a doctor, leaving the twins alone. Carson looked up at Kurt, his eyes clouded over with confusion.

"What happened to me, Kurtsie?" he asked quietly, wincing as he shifted a little in his bed. "Ow, why does it hurt so much?" Kurt felt a stabbing pain in his heart at the thought of what Carson must be feeling right now, waking up in a strange hospital with no memory of how he got there. _My poor baby must be so scared_.

"You, um..." Kurt began, wondering how best to phrase his answer. He didn't want to freak Carson out too badly. "You were outside, and...and you got hit by lightning, honey," he finished, hating himself for saying it when he saw Carson's eyes widening in horror.

"_What_?" he asked in disbelief. He tried to sit up a little, but his face contorted in pain and he quickly lay back against his pillow, looking miserable. "Oh god, Kurt, it hurts."

"Oh, baby," Kurt said sympathetically, squeezing his hand and stroking at his hair. "I know, Carsey. It's the burns. They aren't quite healed yet."

"Mmmph," Carson whimpered. "My head hurts, too. What the fuck was I doing outside in a goddamn storm, anyway?"

Kurt froze, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to answer that question. The very last thing he wanted to do was bring up Blaine and all the other bullshit that had happened that night before Carson left. _Oh god, what do I say? I don't want to lie to him, but I don't really want him to remember why he was outside if he doesn't already. You're better off not knowing, honey, trust me..._

Fortunately, he didn't have to come up with an answer for Carson right then, because Burt burst back into the room, a nurse and Dr. Banks following him and closing the door behind them.

"Hi, Carson," the doctor said brightly as the nurse started checking the various monitors that Carson was attached to. "I'm Dr. Banks. You've had quite a week, haven't you?"

"A week? I've been in here for a fucking _week_?" asked Carson. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to me?"

"Carson," Burt admonished him. Carson scowled.

"Oh, no, don't worry about that," said Dr. Banks with a smile. "After what he's been through, irritability is to be expected. It's quite common after lightning injuries, particularly when there's head trauma involved."

"Head trauma?" Carson asked, sounding a little scared. Kurt squeezed his hand in an attempt to be comforting.

Dr. Banks nodded. "I'm afraid so, son. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Carson shook his head. "No," he whined as the nurse began setting him up with a new IV of what Kurt assumed must be pain medication, because Carson's face suddenly got a bit more relaxed and the tense grip he had on Kurt's hand lightened up some. "I mean, yes, I know it was lightning, but I...I don't..."

"But you don't remember the incident itself?" Dr. Banks prodded him. Carson shook his head. "Well, Carson, a little temporary amnesia also isn't uncommon with injuries like yours. Frankly, I'll expect you to experience a little memory loss, especially right now as your body adjusts to being out of the coma and begins the healing process. Most of the time it comes back, other times...well. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can you tell me the last thing you _do_ remember?"

Kurt looked at Carson and held his breath, waiting eagerly for his twin's answer. He _had_ to know if Carson remembered their romance. _Carson, baby, just give me a sign, anything. Anything to let me know that you remember us. Please. _He thought he saw Carson's cheeks grow slightly pink at the question, and his stomach twisted in a knot as he waited for Carson to reply.

"I, um...I...I..." Carson stammered, looking more and more flustered by the second as he looked quickly over to Kurt and then back at Dr. Banks and Burt. "I...I guess the last thing I remember is...is going to sleep on the night Trollberry left to go see her hooker. Sleeping in...in Kurt's room," he finished.

"Trollberry?" asked Dr. Banks, confused. Kurt's heart practically leaped into his throat.

"My roommate, Rachel," Kurt replied, his heart hammering as he realized what Carson had just said without actually saying it. "He...the last thing he remembers is the night before the accident." _The night we made love for the first time. He remembers. He remembers. HE REMEMBERS. Oh god! Carsey, baby, I love you so much, and you REMEMBER, and...and..._

Dr. Banks shrugged. "Ok, then...it would appear that your memory won't be so severely affected. That's good. That's a very good sign."

"My head hurts," Carson complained, furrowing his eyebrows and glaring at him. Dr. Banks seemed to take it in stride.

"It will, for awhile," he replied with a sympathetic smile. "That IV you're attached to has medication in it for the pain, both from the headaches and the burns you sustained on your upper body from the lightning. It will take a little bit, but it will kick in fully soon. It'll make you a little loopy, though."

"Want it to kick in _now_," Carson said with a whimper. "This fucking _sucks_!"

Dr. Banks, to his credit, never allowed his smile to waver. "Tell you what," he said, noting something on Carson's chart and clipping it back to the foot of the bed. "How about I give you some time to be with your father and your brother, and then I'll come back a little later and we'll check on you then. Ok? Sound good?"

Carson nodded, his grip on Kurt's hand getting a little bit tighter.

"Ok, then," said Dr. Banks. "If anyone needs me, have me paged, ok?" All three Hummels nodded, and Dr. Banks and the nurse exited the room, leaving them alone.

"I'm tired," Carson said as soon as the doctor left. "My head hurts and I want to go _home_."

"I know, kid," said Burt as he stood on the other side of Carson's bed and took his other hand. "But you have a long recovery ahead of you. You'll get through it, though. You will. Me and your brother will be here for you every step of the way, and you'll absolutely get through this."

"I'm not going anywhere," Kurt reassured Carson, bringing his hand up to kiss it. "Never. I won't leave your side, Carsey. Ok?"

Carson nodded, frowning a little as a wave of pain must have passed through him. "Um, Dad?" he said, turning to Burt. "Could...could you give me and Kurt a minute?" Burt smiled sadly and nodded, patting Carson's hand affectionately and glancing from one twin to the other.

"Sure, kid. Take all the time you need. I'll be around. I'll go call Carole and fill her in on what's happening, alright?" Carson nodded and Kurt smiled. "Come get me if you need me," he added.

"Ok," agreed Carson. "I love you, Dad."

Burt looked just a little choked up as he smiled down at Carson. "I love you too, kid." He quickly left the room, and Carson and Kurt were left alone, Kurt's mind racing with a billion different thoughts as he tried to process the fact that Carson still _knew_. That he remembered being with him, and that all was not as lost as it had appeared to be just one week ago. He felt fresh tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, and Carson's thumb clumsily stroking at his hand.

"Kurtsie, it's ok," he said slowly. "It's ok, baby. Please don't cry. I...I hate to see you cry."

"I know," said Kurt with a sniff. "It's just...oh, Carson, I was so scared that...that you wouldn't remember...that you would forget our whole relationship, and I just...I didn't know how I was going to deal with that, and..."

"Shhh," said Carson, making grabby hands until Kurt leaned down and hugged him, wondering if there was any better feeling in the world than Carson's warm body under his touch. Any better sound than the sound of him breathing. He wondered if it was possible to stay forever with his arms around him, and if not, then it should be, damn it.

"I love you so much, Carsey," he whispered, burying his face in Carson's neck. "I didn't want to lose you. Not yet. Not for a long time. Not ever."

"I know," Carson replied slowly, his voice starting to slur from the effects of the drugs. "I...oh my god, I forgot to tell you, Kurtsie...I saw Mom."

"Hmm?" asked Kurt, still wrapped up in the feeling of hugging Carson close.

"I saw Mom. She talked to me...she said...um..." Carson let out a sigh and groaned. "Fuck, I don't remember what she said." The drugs must have finally been kicking in, Kurt decided. Good. He hated to see Carson in any pain.

"Shhh, Carsey, it's ok," he said soothingly. "You don't have to talk. Just relax."

"I...I'm gonna close my eyes now," slurred Carson. "But I'm not...I'm not dead or in a coma or nothing, ok? I'm just...just so tired, Kurtsie."

"It's alright, Carsey," Kurt whispered. "You go to sleep, honey, ok? I'll be right here. I won't leave you."

"Lay with me?" asked Carson softly, and Kurt swallowed down the lump forming in his throat as he nodded.

"Sure," he croaked. "Of course I will, baby." He removed his shoes and carefully climbed into the bed with Carson, placing his arms around him and holding him gently. Carson settled his head against Kurt's chest and sighed sleepily.

"You're so soft, Kurtsie," he murmured as he nuzzled his face into the fabric of Kurt's shirt. "So soft." Kurt let out a strangled giggle at how good it felt to hear Carson say things like that again, and he placed a gentle, tender kiss to his twin's forehead.

"Go to sleep, Carsey," he whispered. "I've got you now. I won't let you go again." _I mean it. I won't. You're the most precious thing in my life, and I'm going to treat you as such from now on, baby. I promise. I love you._

* * *

Waking up out of a coma was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the weirdest fucking experience of Carson's entire life, and that included falling in love and starting a relationship with his own twin brother. He had absolutely zero memory of the lightning strike that everybody said was the cause of said coma. Zilch. None. He couldn't even remember being outside on the day it happened. All he remembered was the wonderful, fantastic night that Rachel had left for her stupid NYADA thing. He vividly remembered Kurt making love to him, and how much deeper in love with him he had fallen. He remembered answering the phone call from Blaine and telling him to fuck off, and how fucking _good _that felt after so many years of standing back and taking his bullshit. And then he remembered himself and Kurt falling asleep in each other's arms afterwards, nobody in the world but the two of them.

Beyond that, though, his memory was a big, foggy haze. There was nothing there, no matter how hard he tried to remember. He apparently had lost an entire day of his life. An entire day of his life with Kurt, to be more specific. He hated knowing this. Hated knowing that he had probably lost a lot of memories of Kurt being adorable, of them kissing, of them in general being a happy couple in love.

Maybe that was a good thing, though. He wasn't sure he really wanted to remember being struck by that goddamn lightning bolt. It had probably hurt like a bitch, if the slowly healing burns he was now sporting all over his upper body were any indication. They were painful as fuck, the intense headaches he was constantly getting as he recovered from his head injury were even worse, and the meds that the hospital had him on didn't really do much for either problem other than numb them a little.

And if he wasn't in blinding pain, then he was numb as shit. He had episodes where he couldn't feel his hands, or they would tingle, and he wasn't sure which was worse, that or the pain. He didn't want Kurt worrying about him any more than necessary, though, so usually he tried to pretend that he was perfectly ok and that the meds were working fine, even if they weren't. It was bad enough that he spent most of the time feeling and acting like a drunk toddler in front of him, what with his shitty coordination skills. Dr. Banks had said that a loss of motor skills was normal after the injuries he had sustained, both from the lightning strike and the head trauma, and that time and physical therapy would return him to normal eventually. That didn't really do a whole lot to comfort Carson as he struggled to even do the simplest things, like feeding himself, and failed miserably. It was embarrassing, having Kurt see him like that.

"Carson," Kurt had said gently as he sat in a chair and watched Carson attempt to eat his first solid meal since he'd woken up from the coma. "Um...maybe you'd like a little help?"

"No," said Carson, trying his hardest to keep any irritation out of his voice when addressing Kurt. He wasn't going to let his unfortunate injuries turn him into an asshole to the man he loved. Fuck that. "I can feed myself." He dipped his plastic spoon into the little tub of applesauce on his tray and tried getting it to his mouth without spilling any of it. He used all the strength he could muster up (which, admittedly, wasn't much), but unfortunately both the spoon and the applesauce ended up landing right on the front of his hospital gown. He just couldn't hold his hand steady enough to get the fucking thing to his mouth. He bit his lip in frustration and tried not to cry. Both Kurt and their father were watching him, and damn it, he wasn't going to break in front of them. It wasn't easy, especially since Kurt got up immediately and removed the spoon, dabbing at the spilled applesauce on Carson's chest with the corner of a paper napkin.

"It's ok, Carsey," he said soothingly as he finished cleaning him up. "These things are going to happen until you get better, baby. It's normal." He moved his chair closer to Carson's bed and took the applesauce tub in his hand, dipping the spoon inside and holding it up to Carson's mouth as though he were feeding a baby. "Here, I'll help you."

Carson frowned. "I'm not very hungry anymore," he mumbled miserably, which wasn't exactly true. Kurt looked at him and sighed.

"You've got to eat, Carsey," he protested. "You have to get your stomach used to solid food again after being on the feeding tube, and besides, you're going to need your strength to get better."

"I don't wanna," Carson whined, more embarrassed than ever. He didn't need Kurt to feed him. Kurt shouldn't _have_ to feed him. He should be able to feed himself, and he absolutely hated everything at the moment. The lightning, the hospital, the stupid gown he was wearing, the tray of food, the floor, the sheets...

"Kurt's right, kid," spoke up Burt from his chair across the room. "Your stomach will be all kinds of screwed up from that feeding tube until you get back on regular food."

"See?" said Kurt. "Honey, I know you hate not being able to feed yourself, but it's just something you have to deal with until you're better. I love you, and I'm going to be here to help you every step of the way while you recover. If that means feeding you until you can do it yourself, then that's what I'll do." He looked like he wanted to say more, but a quick glance into his eyes told Carson that he wasn't going to say it, probably because it wasn't something that could be uttered in their father's presence without them getting very strange looks indeed. Carson sighed.

"I hate this," he groaned, frowning at the spoon in Kurt's hand.

"I know, Carsey," said Kurt, giving him a sympathetic smile. "But just a couple of bites? Hmm? For me?" He stuck out his bottom lip in the pout that Carson knew only too well. The pout he had been powerless to resist all his life and was even more powerless to resist now.

"Fine," he relented with a huge sigh. "Only for you." He grudgingly opened his mouth and allowed Kurt to gently stick the spoonful of applesauce into it. "This stuff tastes like apple flavored glue," he complained after the sauce had slid down his throat. Kurt giggled a little and quickly tried to stop himself, although Carson could still see the tiny remnants of a smile playing at the corners of his twin's mouth.

"And now you're laughing at me," Carson said teasingly with an exaggerated whine, hoping to get that smile to come out again. He hadn't heard Kurt laugh..._really_ laugh...since he'd woken up, and the sound had been music to Carson's ears. "I'm on my deathbed being forced to eat something grosser than Trollberry's soul, which, incidentally, she sold to Satan in 2002 in exchange for the uncanny ability to burst into a Broadway showstopper at the most inopportune time possible, and you think it's funny."

Kurt stared at him for a minute, the spoon in his hand frozen in motion inside the container of applesauce, and looked momentarily confused as he processed what Carson had said. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, and then turned up more, and suddenly he burst out laughing. "What?!" he gasped out through his giggles.

"Yeah, actually, I don't know what I just said," replied Carson. _There's that laugh. The laugh I'd do anything to hear._

"You're such a weirdo," said Kurt with a grin.

"Maybe so, but I got you to smile and laugh," Carson pointed out. Kurt nodded.

"True," he said, gathering up a spoonful of applesauce and holding the spoon toward Carson's mouth again. "Come on, now. Another bite."

"Uuuugh," Carson mumbled, but he obediently opened his mouth and accepted the bite that Kurt offered to him. He swallowed it with a grimace and looked pleadingly into Kurt's eyes. "How many more bites until I can stop?"

"Mmm...three," replied Kurt after a moment of deliberation. "Three more bites and then I promise I'll leave you alone."

Carson sighed heavily. "Ok," he mumbled, opening his mouth up and closing his eyes like a baby bird awaiting a worm from its mother. "Shove that thick gooey stuff down my throat."

Kurt snorted, and Carson peeked one eye open enough to see that he was blushing a furious shade of red. _Probably should have phrased that better...then again, he's really cute when he's flustered like that._

"I'll be back in a little bit, boys, ok?" said Burt, getting up from his chair and taking his phone out of his jeans pocket. "Looks like Kurt's got everything under control here."

Kurt smiled. "Yep," he said, twirling the spoon through the applesauce and gathering up a decent sized bite as Burt left the room, softly closing the door behind him. "I really ought to kill you for saying that with _Dad _in here," he hissed, his face still flushed a deep scarlet.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Carson, biting his lip and smiling at him. "Totally unfortunate phrasing."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Kurt, giving him a playful swat on the arm. Ok," he said cheerfully, holding the spoon up to Carson's face. "Open up."

Carson made a face as he swallowed down the applesauce and tried not to gag. "This stuff really is awful," he complained. Kurt reached one hand out to ruffle his hair.

"I know." He looked around the empty room and then back at Carson, a sly grin spreading across his face. "How about if I make the next two bites worth your while?"

"Oh?" asked Carson, interested. Kurt nodded and leaned forward so he could whisper into Carson's ear.

"For every bite you take, I'll reward you with a kiss," he said softly, and Carson felt himself blushing as he nodded slowly.

"Yeah...yeah, I could deal with that," he answered. Kurt grinned and dipped the spoon into the applesauce one more time.

"Alright, then. Open," he said cheerily. Carson took a deep breath and sucked the spoon into his mouth, swallowing the applesauce in one gulp and barely even making a face this time. _Go me_, he thought proudly, but all coherent thought flew out the window entirely as Kurt leaned in and caught his lips in a soft, tender kiss. _Oh god, I've missed this...so soft...soft lips...what if I had forgotten about this? How this feels? God, I'd rather be dead._ It took him a minute to realize that Kurt had stopped kissing him and was sitting back, staring at him with an amused expression.

"Enjoy that, did you?" he asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively. Carson smiled and nodded.

"I love you so much," he said quietly, and he saw Kurt gulp, looking like he was trying his hardest not to cry.

"I love you too, Carsey," he answered in a choked up voice, playing absentmindedly with the spoon as he twirled it around inside the applesauce. "This stuff washes down better with a kiss, doesn't it?"

"You could say that," said Carson. "Still tastes like apple flavored ass, though." Kurt snorted.

"Ok, ok...one more bite, and then I promise I'll never make you eat this again," he promised, and Carson sat up straighter, bracing himself.

"Bring it on," he said determinedly. Kurt lifted the spoon and brought it to his face, and Carson didn't even hesitate. He swallowed down the last bite of the offending applesauce quickly, gagging a little as he felt it slide down his throat, but soon forgetting all about it as Kurt kissed him again. Their lips slid together beautifully, as though they had been born to kiss each other (which, Carson thought, they kind of had been), and stars danced behind his eyes as Kurt pulled away all too soon.

"No more applesauce?" Carson said hopefully, and Kurt smiled.

"No more applesauce," he confirmed, holding the container up and shaking it for dramatic effect before theatrically tossing it into the nearby trash bin.

"Do I get kisses to make up for all the spoonfuls of that nasty shit that I had to gag down before Dad left the room?" asked Carson, crossing his arms and trying to pout, knowing that it probably looked ridiculous. "It's only fair, after all."

"Hmm, first of all, pouting only works when I do it. And secondly, I do suppose that's fair," Kurt mused, leaning his body forward in his chair so that his face was close to Carson's. "Although, I have to be honest, after all that's happened in the past week, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to refuse you a kiss again, so you kind of have an unfair advantage here."

"I could live with that," replied Carson, his breath hitching in his throat as Kurt's hand reached up to cup his cheek and his face leaned in closer until their lips were pressed together in a deep, passionate kiss. Carson wondered if it was really good for his heart to be beating so fast right now, or for his blood to be rushing so fast in his ears, but decided he didn't really give a shit. He didn't care about anything except the fact that his boyfriend, the most beautiful man in the entire world, was kissing him, and it felt like heaven.

And if he had to choke down some vaguely apple flavored lawn fertilizer in order to get those kisses, then, well...he supposed that was a small price to pay for such a wonderful reward.

"Your lips taste good," Carson said quietly, running his tongue carefully across his own bottom lip as they parted from the kiss. "Really sweet. Much better than that disgusting apple ass."

Kurt smiled shyly, leaning his face back down in preparation for another kiss, but stopping quickly in his tracks as the door started to open. _Shit_, Carson thought in a slight panic as the door opened all the way and their dad entered the room, holding a cup of coffee and looking down at his phone's screen. _Come on, Dad, you couldn't have held out for a few more minutes? I'm trying to make out with my devastatingly handsome boyfriend, here._ He glanced at Kurt, who had settled back in his chair and was busying himself with picking lint off of his shirt. Carson could make out the pink tinge on his twin's cheeks where Kurt was blushing in embarrassment. _It's ok, Kurtsie, he's oblivious._

"I'm back," Burt announced, and Carson was pretty proud of himself for holding back the "No shit" that desperately wanted to escape from his mouth in reply. "Everything good here? Carson, did you eat?"

"He ate," replied Kurt, answering the question for him.

"It tasted like a bird took a shit in a barrel of apples," spoke up Carson. "But yes, I ate it."

"Good," said Burt, ignoring the language. "I knew your brother would find some way to get you to do it."

_You can say that again. _"He has his ways," Carson replied, at the same time as Kurt said "I have my ways." Burt chuckled.

"You guys are two peas in a pod," he said. "I'm so happy to have you back, Carson. To have the two of you together, like you should be." Carson felt Kurt's hand reach out and grab hold of his, squeezing gently.

"So are we, Dad," he replied quietly. "So are we."

* * *

The first days of Carson's recovery were harder for Kurt to deal with, in some ways, than him being in a coma. He absolutely hated seeing Carson struggle with the aftermath of his injuries. He knew that the healing burns on his twin's body had to be painful, even despite the almost constant drip of medication into his system to help with the pain. Carson may have been desperately trying to not let it show, but Kurt's heart broke every time he saw a brief wince on his face as something accidentally brushed up against a sore spot.

"You ok?" he asked every time.

"Fine," Carson always replied through gritted teeth. Kurt didn't want to argue with him, so he always dropped the subject. So far he had been lucky enough to not be on the receiving end of one of Carson's extreme mood swings, and he wanted to keep it that way. Because, while Carson was just as loving and sweet to him as he'd ever been before the accident, he was ten times bitchier to everybody else. Kurt felt sorry for the hospital staff, who barely ever escaped a visit to Carson's room without receiving a verbal barb or two.

"It's fucking hot in here," he'd complained to a nurse one day as she came in to change out his IV full of pain drugs. "Doesn't this place believe in air conditioning?"

"This food sucks," he'd said on a different occasion as another nurse brought him his dinner tray. "I swear to fuck, this is worse than the shit they used to serve us in the cafeteria at McShitley. Is this food or rancid cow dicks?"

"Carson," Kurt admonished him, giving an apologetic glance to the nurse, who looked like she couldn't wait to get out of there.

"Well, it's true," said Carson grumpily as the nurse practically flew out of the room. "This food is such shit. I want _real_ food. And I want to go home. Go home and eat real food, not this crap." He crossed his arms and glared at the tray in front of him.

"Carsey, you know you have to follow the diet they have you on until your stomach is healed," said Kurt sensibly as he took a plastic spoon and stirred it through the lumpy mashed potatoes on Carson's tray.

"I want ice cream," Carson pouted, and Kurt almost wanted to laugh at how adorable he looked, sticking his lip out like a cranky toddler.

"Ice cream isn't the best idea, baby," he replied. "You're not supposed to have sweet stuff. It will aggravate your headaches."

"I don't care," said Carson, looking miserably down at the spoonful of mashed potatoes in Kurt's hand. "I hate this stuff." Kurt felt so bad for him, but he knew Carson had to eat.

"I know, honey, but it's not forever," he said as Carson scowled. "Now, come on. Take a bite. It's not that bad."

"I can feed myself," Carson whined, even though they both knew that he couldn't. Not unless they wanted meal time to last for several hours as Carson struggled to keep a steady enough hold on his spoon to make it to his mouth. "I'm not a two year old."

"Aaaaw, but you've been acting like one lately," Kurt teased. "Yelling at nurses and doctors and stuff."

"They deserved it," Carson muttered.

"You're cute," said Kurt with a smile. "Now, come on. Take a bite. Please?" He waved the spoon around, and Carson frowned, refusing to open his mouth. "Oh, come on, Carsey," Kurt prodded. "Open your mouth, 'cause here comes the train. Choo choo!"

Carson's lips twitched as he struggled, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. "Only because I love you," he said through his giggles, grudgingly opening his mouth and accepting the potatoes with a grimace.

"Tastes like chicken...shit," he said as he swallowed it down. "Chicken shit."

Carson's lack of muscle coordination and motor skills was probably the hardest part of this whole thing for Kurt to watch him deal with, especially because he could see in Carson's eyes how much it embarrassed him to not be able to do most basic things for himself until he could start physical therapy sessions. Everything was a struggle, from eating to dressing to bathing. Even using the bathroom on his own proved to be a challenge at first, as Kurt discovered soon after Carson had first awakened from his coma. He had helped Carson across the room to the small attached bathroom, which Carson had shut himself in while Kurt waited patiently outside. It had been taking him quite a long time, though, and Kurt was starting to get worried.

"Carson?" he'd called, knocking gently on the door with his knuckles. "Um...are you ok in there?"

"Fine," Carson had replied, but it sounded strained, as though he were struggling to retain his composure.

"Are you sure?" asked Kurt. There was silence for a minute, and then he heard Carson sigh.

"Come on," Kurt heard Carson say quietly from behind the door. "Please, come on, not this too.."

"Carson, what's wrong?" he asked, worried. There was no answer. "Carson, I'm coming in," he continued, lifting the door handle and gently opening the door. Needless to say, the fact that Carson clearly required assistance even to perform this most basic of functions was humiliating him, and Kurt just wanted to hug him close.

"I can do it myself," Carson insisted weakly, even as he proved that no, he couldn't. "I can do it." He bit his lip and looked so close to tears that Kurt's heart hurt just looking at him.

"Shhh, Carsey, it's ok," he soothed as he helped him. "It's ok."

"It's not ok, Kurt," said Carson in a choked voice as he looked everywhere but at him, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "It's...I just...you seeing me like this, I can't..."

"Carson, let me say something," Kurt said gently as he flushed the toilet and led Carson over to the sink to help him wash his hands. "We're together. We're a couple. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you, and I like to think that you have the same plan. Right?"

"Right," said Carson.

"Ok," replied Kurt. "Well, if we're going to do that, then isn't this kind of what that's all about? I mean, everything isn't always going to be picture perfect. A relationship like this means that we enjoy each other at our best, yes, and that's wonderful. But, Carsey, it also means that we help and support each other at our worst. That's what you do when you love someone. I love you, so I'm going to stay by your side and be there when you need me. Like right now." He turned the faucet off and used a paper napkin to gently dry Carson's shaking hands, taking them in his own and bringing them up to his mouth to kiss, one at a time.

"I seriously don't even deserve you," said Carson. Kurt shook his head, touching his forehead and nose to Carson's and closing his eyes, savoring the closeness.

"No, baby, don't say that, ok?" he said. "I'm nothing all that special. It's the other way around. It's _me_ who doesn't deserve _you_, and now that I've almost lost you once, I realize just how precious you really are to me. I mean, I knew before, but now I really _know_, you know?" He lifted his face to kiss Carson on the forehead, carefully wrapping him up in a hug.

"Cuddles in bed?" he asked, and he felt Carson nod against his shoulder.

"That would be awesome," he whispered. Kurt gently led him out of the bathroom and back into the bed, where he got Carson settled in first before carefully climbing in beside him and holding his arms out in invitation. Carson eagerly entered them, snuggling as close as he could and pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's chest before resting his head against it.

"Should we put the TV on?" asked Kurt. Carson shook his head.

"Let's not. My head hurts," he replied, letting out a sigh. Kurt nodded and held him closer, kissing the top of his hair.

"Ok," he said. "You just lay here and relax. Should we call for more drugs?"

"Kurt, I'm already full of enough drugs to start my own cartel. I think we're good," replied Carson with a yawn, and Kurt couldn't help but laugh.

"Yep, you're still my same old Carsey, alright," he said.

"No, I'm not," said Carson. "I'm broken, damaged Carsey who has to be fed like an infant and who can't even take a piss on his own anymore, apparently, and needs the help of his drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend, which is embarrassing as fuck."

"You really think I'm drop-dead gorgeous?" asked Kurt.

"Duh."

"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt cooed, softly stroking his fingers up and down Carson's back. "You're not broken, and you're not damaged. You're just...you're just hurt and bruised up a bit. But you'll get better and back to your old self soon. And this will all just be a very bad memory."

"It'll be a half nonexistent memory, actually," said Carson. "I can't remember the damn lightning strike. Not that I _want_ to, but...you know."

"I know," Kurt said quietly, privately thinking about just how much he didn't want Carson to remember the lightning strike either, because he didn't want him to also remember the events that led up to it. It wasn't that he wanted to lie to Carson. That wasn't it. He just didn't want Carson remembering the fight and the heartbreak, which had, after all, essentially been over nothing. No, it was probably better for everybody if Carson didn't remember.

"Who needs to remember that bullshit, anyway?" said Carson, burying his face into the soft fabric of Kurt's T-shirt. "Not me. Don't care. Fuck that lightning. I don't want to remember it."

"Yeah," agreed Kurt, smiling as he enjoyed the feeling of Carson cuddling up to him. "Fuck it."

* * *

"Dad," said Carson one day as Kurt left them alone to go to the bathroom. "You've got to help me. I'm dying over here."

"Hmm?" asked Burt, looking up from the copy of _Popular Mechanics_ he had been reading and frowning. "What's wrong, buddy? Are you ok? Do you need the nurse?"

Carson suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "_No_, I don't need the nurse. I need real food. Specifically, I need ice cream."

He wasn't even lying, either. He really, really, _really_ wanted ice cream. He wanted it so bad that he could practically already taste it. He had been in the hospital now, awake, that is, for almost a week, and had been surviving on the shitty slop that they liked to call "food." And quite frankly, he was sick to death of it. He knew he had to eat it, but honestly, he didn't see how one little ice cream could hurt. He hadn't had anything sweet in forever, and he was craving it like a bitch.

"Hmm, I don't know, Carson. Your brother would have a fit," said Burt. "You remember how he was with me and my diet after I had my heart attack. Something tells me that it's ten times worse with you."

"Dad, _pleeeease_?" Carson begged. "I've been eating nothing but the crappy hospital food forever, and it sucks! That's not even food. It's _lies_! It's some kind of evil, goopy, _stuff_ masquerading as food. Just one ice cream, that's all. That's all I want. Pleeeeease?" He tried to contort his face into a pout, not sure how well that would work, since he'd never really tried pouting on his dad before. He wasn't good enough at it to sway Kurt, but maybe his dad would be a different story.

"Please?" he repeated.

"I dunno..." said Burt uncertainly.

Carson sighed heavily. "You know, Dad, I could have died from that lightning strike. I could be dead right now. You could be tossing flowers onto my grave and mourning my loss. Or throwing yourself over my coffin in despair, and as you gaze upon the framed photograph of me that's decorating the top of said coffin, you would wish with all your heart that you could be bringing ice cream to your poor, sick son." Carson decided to stop talking before he started to ramble, and checked his father's face to see how well that little speech he had pulled out of his ass had worked.

Apparently it had worked quite well, because Burt sighed, put down his magazine, and got up from his chair. "Ok," he said quietly as Kurt emerged from the bathroom. "I'll uh...ahem...chocolate, right?" he said in a whisper, casting a nervous glance in Kurt's direction.

"Mmm-hmm," Carson confirmed, and Burt nodded, patting him on the shoulder and turning to Kurt.

"I'll be right back, boys," he said brightly. "Will you be ok while I'm gone?"

"We'll be _awesome_," said Carson with a smile. Kurt looked confused, but shrugged.

"Um, yeah. We'll be fine," he said. Burt nodded and disappeared out of the room quickly, as though he was afraid that Kurt would sense that he was on an illicit ice cream mission. Carson was about to turn to him and ask if he wanted to take the opportunity while their dad was gone to have a quick makeout session, which they had been sneaking in as often as they could (which wasn't nearly often enough for Carson's liking, since Burt was in the room more often than he wasn't). Unfortunately, the room door opened before he could speak, and Dr. Banks walked in, wearing that constant smile on his face that Carson was kind of really starting to hate.

"Hello, Carson," he said cheerfully as he crossed the room and took the chart off the foot of the bed. "How are we feeling today?"

"I don't know how _we_ are feeling today, but _I_ am feeling rather shitty," said Carson matter-of-factly, deciding not to beat around the bush, since the doctor was currently depriving him of Kurt's lips and Carson decided that he should pay. "The fucking headaches never let up, I still have the coordination of Brittany when she's blasted off Jell-O shots, and yesterday I couldn't feel my hands for like two hours, and then they tingled afterwards for a really long fucking time before they felt even close to normal again."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kurt trying to shrink into his chair, his face reddening. Dr. Banks blinked at Carson for a second before clearing his throat and putting the chart back.

"Ok," he said slowly, as if he were afraid of triggering a Carson meltdown if he so much as spoke the wrong word. "I understand your frustration, Carson, and I assure you that these ailments you're experiencing are, for the most part, only temporary. After all, your body has been through a lot. Healing takes time, and there's only so much we can do to treat the side effects. A lot of the healing will have to come with time."

"What do you mean "for the most part?" Carson asked, fixating on that part of the doctor's speech and feeling a sense of dread building in his stomach. "Are you implying that some of this bullshit will stay with me permanently? Oh hell no."

Dr. Banks sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't guarantee that you will or won't have permanent, lasting effects," he said, sounding sympathetic as he gave Carson and Kurt a small smile. "That's really something that we'll only see as time passes. You did sustain some nerve damage from the lightning, which is why you occasionally lose feeling in your hands. Now, as far as what this means for your future, I really can't say right now. It's possible that you could develop problems later, or you could be completely healed by this time next year. We simply won't know until we get there."

"What kind of problems?" asked Kurt quietly as Carson tried to process this news without having a complete meltdown. He couldn't live this way for a year and beyond. He just couldn't. He'd lose his shit.

Dr. Banks cleared his throat. "Well, as time passes and we know the extent of the nerve damage, he could develop chronic pain, difficulty sleeping, disruptions in...in sexual arousal..."

"_What_?" interrupted Carson, refusing to believe that he had heard those last words correctly. "What the fuck do you mean, disruptions in sexual arousal? Am I...am I gonna be able to...?" Kurt's blush had deepened to tomato red by now, and he was looking down at his shoes as Dr. Banks suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"Like I said, Carson, we won't know until we get there," he repeated. "But any of these problems will be more than treatable. _If_ they even develop. We just have to wait and see." He gave Carson an awkward pat on the shoulder and smiled. "Maybe I should come back later, hmm?"

"Yes, maybe you should," Carson snapped, and Dr. Banks quickly made his way out of the room as Carson looked at Kurt in horror.

"Kurt...oh my _god_," he said, trying not to panic as he thought of what a useless piece of shit he would really be to Kurt if he couldn't even have sex properly. Kurt took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Carson, it's ok," he said. Carson shook his head.

"No, Kurt. No, it's _not_ ok!" he whined. "What if my dick doesn't even work anymore? What the fuck does that mean for you? For _us_?"

Kurt shrugged. "It just means that we'll be a couple who has to work a little bit harder and overcome a few more obstacles than your average," he said casually. "It's really not a big deal, baby."

"Not a big deal?" asked Carson incredulously. "Kurt, I don't think you get it. If I can't get it up, then sex is going to be a hell of a lot more work for you, and you deserve so much better than that. I'll be the world's most useless boyfriend."

"No, you won't be," Kurt reassured him. "I promise, I will still love you even if that happens. But I'm pretty sure it won't."

"But what if it _does_?" Carson whined. He didn't even want to think about this possibility, but it was all he _could_ think about. Kurt sighed and got up from his chair, walking over to the door and peeking his head outside. He looked in both directions and shut the door tightly, turning around and giving Carson a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing?" asked Carson suspiciously. Kurt's grin grew wider.

"I'm going to prove to you that there's absolutely nothing wrong with your dick," he said, and Carson suddenly felt really hot all over. Especially once Kurt had moved the chairs out of the way and started using the floor as an imaginary dance floor, moving his hips in the ways he had previously only reserved for his Cheerio days at McKinley.

"Shit, Kurt," Carson breathed, his eyes focused on the tightness of Kurt's pants and how well they hugged his ass...that beautiful, gorgeous ass that he hadn't touched in so very long and was now positively aching to touch. And speaking of aching...

"Um...Kurt?" Carson said, blushing as he tried to shift his legs to make himself more comfortable. Kurt raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

"Yes?" he asked in a saucy tone of voice.

"I, um...there's nothing wrong with my dick," Carson squeaked, and Kurt responded by bending over in front of him, putting his ass front and center on display.

"See?" he said. "I knew there wasn't. Pretty sure I just made you hard without even touching you."

"So you did," said Carson. "Now you should stop, because if someone walks in right now, this could get awfully embarrassing."

"Or, I could take care of it for you before someone walks in, and then maybe you'll be a little bit nicer the next time a member of the hospital staff comes in to check on you," countered Kurt, and Carson had to admit, the offer was pretty tempting. Still, it was risky as fuck.

"We could get caught," he protested, even though he knew he wasn't going to be able to resist for very long as Kurt strode over to him, carrying one of the chairs with him and setting it down beside the bed. Carson gulped as Kurt delicately sat himself down and leaned in to kiss him, his lips gentle but firm as they pressed against Carson's. Carson felt Kurt's tongue darting out to run across his bottom lip, and he shivered in spite of the fact that it was actually pretty hot in the room at the moment. Or maybe that was just him who was hot. Who the fuck knew? And who the fuck cared, because, ok, that was Kurt's hand slowly snaking its way under the covers and creeping its way toward the prize it was seeking. Carson gasped into Kurt's mouth as he felt the hand encircling his dick and giving it several long, gentle strokes.

"Fuck," he breathed, and Kurt parted from the kiss to grin at him.

"Relax and enjoy, baby," he whispered in his ear, and Carson was vaguely aware that their dad would be back any time with the ice cream, but he didn't really care right now. Kurt's hand on him felt _wonderful_, even if it was a little too rough and a little too dry. It had been too long, definitely. _Most_ definitely, because Carson felt himself rapidly approaching his peak after only a few minutes of stroking. He let out a moan that Kurt muffled with his lips, and suddenly he was stuttering his hips and coming all over Kurt's hand, his vision going white for a moment as Kurt stroked him through it and he slowly came back down to earth.

"Wow," he said breathily as Kurt removed his hand and reached for a moist towelette from the stack of them that were now kept on the beside table for cleanup purposes after Carson's meal times.

"See?" said Kurt triumphantly as he ripped open the cloth and cleaned off his hand. "Your dick is fine. Our sex life will be fine. All it takes is-"

He got no further, because the door opened then and Burt strode in, carrying a bag from Dairy Queen and whistling to himself. Carson's heart hammered nervously in his chest as he adjusted his blankets, and he was pretty sure Kurt was having a heart attack beside him as he quickly tried to dispose of the soiled moist towelette.

"Ok, kid," said Burt as he reached into the bag and carefully extracted a small cup and a spoon. He removed the lid from the cup, and Carson was extremely grateful for the distraction as he made eager grabby hands toward it.

"Gimmeee," he said happily as he reached for the cup, and he heard a hum of disapproval from Kurt's chair.

"Is that ice cream?" Kurt asked, and both Carson and Burt turned to look at him guiltily, although Carson was also kind of amused, because Kurt was still blushing from almost getting caught having forbidden sexytimes.

"Yes," said Carson. "It is."

"Dad!" Kurt exclaimed. "He can't have ice cream! You know the doctors said that sugar and sweets will make his headaches worse, and ice cream will be like ten times more likely to do that to him!"

"But Kurt," Carson whined. "I hate the food here. It's fucking gross. I just want something normal for once. Please?"

"Carson, your headaches," Kurt said adamantly. "I hate to see you in so much pain, and this will definitely cause you pain."

"But the ice cream is already here," Carson protested. "If I don't eat it, then it will either melt or one of you is going to have to eat it. And it won't be Dad, because you've forbidden him to ever eat anything fattening ever again. And it won't be you, because you would feel terrible eating ice cream in front of me when I'm forced to choke down overheated turds at every meal. So..." he trailed off and gave Kurt a hopeful smile. Kurt looked like he wanted to protest, but he just sighed and shrugged.

"Ok," he said. "Whatever. But mark my words, you're going to give yourself a headache."

"I don't care," said Carson happily, taking hold of the cup and jamming the spoon into the ice cream. His coordination hadn't much improved in the past few days, but he did manage to get the spoon to his mouth after a few tries.

"Oh my god," he moaned as the taste of the chocolate hit his taste buds. "This is, like...I don't even know. Sex. This is chocolate sex."

Burt snorted. Kurt blushed, and gently took the cup from Carson's hands, twirling the spoon around in the ice cream before holding it out to him. "Here, at least let me control the pace at which you eat this," he said. "Maybe if you eat it really slowly, your headache won't be as bad later." Carson settled back against his pillow and allowed Kurt to slowly feed him the ice cream as Burt sat back down with his magazine.

"Wasn't this chair in a different spot before?" he asked, looking around the room in confusion. Kurt's eyes met Carson's and Carson could tell that he was trying not to laugh out loud.

"Um...I don't know, Dad," Kurt replied as he gently stuck a spoonful of ice cream into Carson's mouth. Carson smiled at him and winked.

He wasn't smiling later that night, though, once he and Kurt were alone and cuddling in bed, trying to watch an old rerun of _The Facts of Life._ Kurt was laughing at something funny happening on the screen, but Carson was frowning as he desperately tried to ward off the huge headache he could feel coming on. He tried to discreetly rub at his forehead to relieve some of the pressure, but he wasn't subtle enough. Kurt turned his attention to him and gave him a knowing look.

"Headache?" he asked. Carson sighed and nodded.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured, the pain growing worse by the second.

"Forgive me for gloating in your time of need, but who was it who told you that if you ate ice cream, you would probably pay for it later?" asked Kurt sweetly.

"You did," Carson grumbled. "You don't have to rub it in. I'm in far too much pain to defend myself."

Kurt pulled him closer and kissed his forehead before Carson nuzzled his face into Kurt's neck and let out a shuddering breath. "It hurts," he whined, his voice muffled by Kurt's skin.

"I know it does, baby," soothed Kurt. "Just hold onto me. That's it. Try not to think about it." He turned the TV off and Carson breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden silence in the room. He burrowed into the comfort of Kurt's arms and let the beating of his twin's heart lull him off to sleep.

He woke up the next morning still in Kurt's arms, his headache mercifully gone and his lips dry. He yawned and saw that Kurt was already awake, scrolling through his Facebook newsfeed on his phone and occasionally tapping out a brief comment.

"Everybody says to get well soon," he said, noticing Carson looking at him. "Even Rachel. I told her she could just come visit you and tell you herself, but I think she's afraid."

Carson nodded. "She should be. I'm ten times the bitch I was before all of this. I might literally bite her head off. But tell her thank you." He yawned again and burrowed closer to Kurt's warm body. "Where's Dad?"

"Off getting breakfast somewhere. He's under strict instructions not to eat anything from a fast food establishment," replied Kurt. "So he might be awhile. We have the room to ourselves for a bit, my dear."

"I like the sound of that," said Carson sleepily, leaning up for a kiss. He pressed his lips against Kurt's and just let the feeling of being totally enveloped by Kurt's love wash over him. Early morning kisses really were the best kind.

"Mmm, that was nice," whispered Kurt as they parted from the kiss, giving Carson a small smile. Carson smiled back and reached up, stroking Kurt's face with a shaking hand.

"I know," he said. "Let's do it again." He caught Kurt's lips back in another kiss, and Kurt let out a giggle as their teeth accidentally crashed together. They were so busy kissing that they didn't realize that the door had been opened until a slightly familiar voice rang through the room.

"I knew it!"


	28. Chapter 28

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, lovelies! Not much to say here, except the usual that we love all of you and your comments on here/S&C/Twitter/Tumblr. You're what keeps us motivated. So, why don't we start reading the latest adventures in Kurson Land, hmm?**

"I knew it!"

Carson's eyes flew open and he froze in the middle of a kiss, his lips still firmly attached to Kurt's. He stared in horror at Kurt, whose eyes were also wide open, as they exchanged mutual "Oh, shit!" looks before parting. Kurt's face was as red as a boiled beet, and Carson was sure his was the same. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was never more grateful for the fact that he was off the heart monitor than he was right now, because the amount of beeping it would have been doing at the moment would have alerted nurses in Canada that there was something happening in the room. He really didn't want to turn around and see who their most unwelcome surprise visitor was, but he could tell by the look on Kurt's face as _he_ stared at the intruder that they were probably so screwed.

"Oh my god, what the hell are _you_ doing here?" Kurt exclaimed, and Carson caved and turned around. Sebastian Smythe was standing in the doorway, a sly grin on his face as he stared at the two of them on the bed. _Of course, I should have fucking known_, Carson thought. _I knew that voice sounded familiar._ It occurred to him that he was still clinging to Kurt, but since the damage, so to speak, had already been done, he didn't see the point in letting go now.

"Forget what _I'm_ doing here," said Sebastian, still grinning at them like a Cheshire cat. "What about what _you're_ doing? I've got to say, I suspected this all along. I just didn't think I'd be lucky enough to walk in on it in progress in the middle of a hospital bed."

"God, will you shut up?" Kurt hissed, glaring at Sebastian. "And close the door!" Sebastian did as he was asked, never tearing his eyes off of the twins as he closed the door and took a few more steps into the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed casually across his chest.

"Well, if this isn't just the cutest thing," Sebastian cooed, giving them a cheeky smile and shaking his head. "Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "brotherly love," wouldn't you agree?"

"This isn't what it looks like, ok?" Carson spoke up, looking Sebastian in the eye and trying his best to sound convincing. "It was...we were just..."

"Wait, don't tell me," Sebastian said, holding up one hand and chuckling. "Your lips were cold and Kurt was just warming them up for you? Or, no, wait...I know. You had a boo-boo on your lip and he was kissing it better. With his tongue." He snorted at his own joke, and Carson glared at him.

"My question still stands. What are you doing here?" Kurt snapped, his arms tightening protectively around Carson. "It's not visiting hours yet, and you're not family."

"You'd be surprised at what a good liar I am. The nurses think I'm your cousin. And relax, jeez. I come in peace," Sebastian replied. "Word on the internet was that Carson had a little accident, and since I _did_ almost take his virginity and all, I thought it would be kind of appropriate to come and see how he's holding up. Although, I guess now I see that he's got you keeping him _up_, hmm? If you know what I mean?" Kurt scowled.

"So, what, you just hopped on a plane to New York to pay him a friendly visit?" he said fiercely, his eyes practically glowing with rage. If they weren't in such hot water right now, Carson would have been so turned on.

"No, actually, I hopped on a plane to New York a couple of days ago. To spend part of the summer with my aunt," said Sebastian calmly.

"Bullshit," retorted Kurt. "You've done nothing the entire time I've known you except cause me misery. You expect me to believe that you just happened to be in New York with no ulterior motive? When the last time I saw you, you were attempting to...to...to _corrupt_ my brother?"

"You can always ask my aunt, if you don't believe me," said Sebastian. "Considering that you work for her."

Kurt froze for a second, and Carson watched his face as he worked out what Sebastian had said. "Your aunt is..."

"Isabelle Wright of _Vogue_ fame?" supplied Sebastian. "Yep. And...come on, you're doing a much better job of corrupting your own brother than I ever could have, so..."

"But Isabelle never told me she had a nephew," mused Kurt.

"Well, did you _ask_?" asked Sebastian with an amused smile. Kurt glared at him.

"You know, Meerkat-"

"Ok, as weirdly hot as it is watching two guys fight over me, can we just cut all the bullshit?" asked Carson, who had been valiantly suppressing a rising panic in his chest ever since Sebastian had entered the room. Kurt's ever-tightening grip on him was keeping him calm, but just barely. "Sebastian, if you say anything to anyone about what you saw, I swear to god..."

"Once again, relax," said Sebastian, rolling his eyes heavenward and shaking his head. "Damn, can I do anything without everybody thinking I'm up to something? I'm not here to make anyone's life miserable. I promise. I mean, I know I've definitely been a dick in the past, to both of you. But honestly, I'm just here because I heard about what happened and wanted to show my support for a friend."

Carson exchanged a baffled look with Kurt before turning back to Sebastian. "Friend?"

"Ok, maybe not _friend_ exactly," corrected Sebastian. "More like...casual acquaintance whom I almost had sex with once? Does that work?" Carson didn't know what to say to that. Kurt scowled next to him.

"_Almost_ being the key word, there," said Kurt quickly. "You _almost_ had sex with him, and fortunately, you didn't."

Sebastian's face broke back into a grin as he looked back and forth between the two of them. "Speaking of that, I totally suspected this. You two were about as subtle as a car crash, what with all your jealousy and eye-fucking. I'm surprised the whole state of Ohio didn't know. And as soon as Carson turned down sex with me, I knew something was definitely up. Nobody ever turns down sex with me. Not without a damn good reason."

"Mm-hmm. I'm so sure," said Kurt sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Actually, the only people who ever turn you down for sex do it because of _me_, so let's reflect on that for a minute."

"Oooh, sassy!" said Sebastian excitedly. "Love it. It's super hot."

"Bite me," snapped Kurt.

"I'd like to, but I think Carson has that covered," replied Sebastian casually. "And I'm a little over trying to steal other people's boyfriends."

"Carson frowned. The casual way Sebastian was treating the situation was a little bit of a relief, but he still wasn't quite sure he trusted him. "Aren't you...aren't you, like, grossed out or something?" he asked. He was still trying to figure out what Sebastian's angle was here, exactly. Sure, Santana had known and hadn't cared., but that wasn't generally the reaction Carson was expecting from anyone else, if anyone else were to ever find out. It was weird.

"Grossed out? No. Not at all," replied Sebastian with a shrug. "Granted, it's more than a little unusual, but if I'm being completely honest...and I am, because I'm an honest kind of guy...I think it's actually pretty hot."

Carson heard Kurt let out a scoff beside him, and his twin's grip on him got as tight as it could get without Kurt physically gluing their bodies together. "You are such a pervert," he muttered under his breath.

Sebastian snorted. "_Me_? I'm not the one screwing my own twin brother, Kurt."

"Shhhh," Kurt hissed, looking around wildly. "Keep your damn voice down, god!"

Carson narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the boy staring at them. "So you're not going to tell anyone, or...?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Nope. I could, of course. Maybe I even should. But right now...naw. I said I wasn't going to be a dick anymore, and I'm not. Much. I mean, I'm definitely going to be hoping like fuck from now on that I get a free show or two out of keeping my mouth shut, but-"

"In your dreams," snapped Carson. "There will be no free shows for you, ever. I don't care how silent you are. We're not going to be your fucking little pervert fantasy."

"Damn right," agreed Kurt. "I won't be exploiting my relationship with Carson for your sick twin fetish or whatever the hell it is you've got."

Sebastian sighed. "Well, it was worth a shot. Damn, I wish I hadn't said anything when I walked in on you kissing. I should have shut the fuck up and waited for you to go further. Just tell me one thing. Would there have been at least partial nudity if I had watched for a little bit longer?"

Kurt let out an indignant gasp. Carson glared at him. "Get the hell out of my room," he ordered, letting go of Kurt and pointing toward the door as fiercely as he could.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," Sebastian said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "That was rude." He was silent for a minute before speaking again. "Would there at least have been tongues traveling places other than mouths, or...?"

Kurt opened his mouth, probably about to tell Sebastian where to shove it, but was interrupted by the arrival of their father, who entered the room looking curiously at Sebastian and then over at the twins.

"I'm back, boys," he announced, giving Sebastian another inquiring look. "This guy someone you know, Carson?" he asked.

"You could say that," replied Carson dryly, hoping he sounded casual and not at all like the panicked mess he was, worrying that Sebastian would break his promise right then and there and say something to Burt. Kurt looked at the wall, avoiding looking at Sebastian, and Carson could practically feel the rapid thumping of his twin's heart as he was probably panicking over the same thing.

_If he says anything, I swear to fuck, I will fucking end him._

"We know each other from Lima," supplied Sebastian in an uncharacteristically friendly voice, sticking his hand out for Burt to shake. "Sebastian Smythe, sir," he introduced himself, and Carson breathed a slight sigh of relief as he felt Kurt squeeze at his hand. He wasn't sure what he would have done had Sebastian decided to shoot his mouth off, but he didn't even want to think about it. He focused on getting his breathing and heart rate back to normal.

"Burt Hummel," Burt replied, shaking Sebastian's hand and looking at him quizzically.

"Anyway, I'll be a senior at Dalton Academy this year. My aunt happens to be Kurt's boss," continued Sebastian. "So I was in town. And when I heard about what happened to Carson, well..."

"Yes, and now he's very sorry, but he has to be going," said Kurt in a syrupy sweet voice, giving Sebastian a pointed look. "Isn't that right, Sebastian?"

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't argue. "Right," he agreed. "Lots to do. I'll be stopping by again, Carson," he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'm glad you're _feeling so good_."

"Yes, yes, bye now," said Kurt, his plastered on grin not leaving his face as he waved at Sebastian exaggeratedly. Sebastian nodded.

"Nice to have met you, Mr. Hummel," he said politely before exiting the room, much to Carson's relief.

"Hmm," said Burt thoughtfully as he settled into one of the room's chairs. "He's an odd one, isn't he?"

"Yep," said the twins at the same time, and Carson couldn't help but grin at how in sync they were with each other. He just hoped that the day wasn't going to get any weirder than it had been already.

As it turned out, aside from the very weird, confusing, and panic inducing visit from Sebastian, the day turned out very well indeed. Dr. Banks paid his usual afternoon visit, causing Carson to inwardly groan, since every time the man entered the room it seemed he was only there to give Carson another piece of bad news, or add something else to the list of things that he wouldn't be able to do normally for a very long time, if ever again. Carson supposed he should probably feel bad for unleashing his furious inner bitch on the guy every time this happened, but the lightning must have also damaged his ability to give a fuck, because he didn't. To say the least, the sight of the doctor was usually a pretty discouraging one, and Carson was all set to let loose with the newest list of profanity-laden complaints he had stored up since the last time.

Which was why Carson was extremely surprised when the first words out of Dr. Banks' mouth this time were "Ok, Carson, before you yell at me, I have some good news."

"Good news?" Kurt asked hopefully, sitting up straighter in the chair he had been hunched in with a copy of _Glamour_ stolen from a waiting room. He reached for Carson's hand and held it in his own, and all three Hummels looked at the doctor with rapt attention. "What good news?"

"Well," said Dr. Banks, opening up the folder he had carried into the room with him and looking over the papers contained within, "I'm happy to say that Carson's latest round of tests and scans show that he's exhibiting signs of improvement. He's slowly regaining his motor skills, and his latest brain scan shows significant improvement over the one we did when he first woke up."

"That's great, right?" asked Burt, taking Carson's other hand and looking pointedly at Dr. Banks. "That means he'll be back to normal soon?"

"Well, I wouldn't jump right to _normal_," cautioned Dr. Banks. "There's still a very long road to complete recovery ahead, and physical therapy sessions will have to be continued for quite a while before his motor skills are what they were before the lightning strike."

"Get to the point. When do I get to leave this shit heap of a hospital so I can go home and eat real food instead of reheated hippo balls?" asked Carson, and he could almost feel the embarrassment radiating off of Kurt and his father. Dr. Banks didn't even bat an eye.

"I'd say within the next few days, if all continues to go well," he answered brightly, probably secretly ecstatic at the prospect of being rid of Carson. "You can continue your treatment as an outpatient, but further hospitalization won't be necessary."

"Fuck yes!" Carson shouted, feeling happier than he'd felt in a long time. He really _really_ fucking hated being in the hospital, and even worse, he hated that Kurt was wasting all his time sitting in the damn hospital because of him when he should have been going to work and living his life. The guilt over that had been steadily eating at Carson for a while now, and getting worse with every passing day. But if he could go home, Kurt wouldn't have to worry about him as much. He suddenly couldn't wait to leave.

"I'm glad to see you so excited about something," said Dr. Banks with a smile. "We're just going to keep an eye on you for a little bit longer, and then you can go. Think you can handle that?"

"He can handle it," Kurt answered for him before Carson could say anything. "I'll make sure he rests so that he'll in good shape to come home." He had the cutest little grin on his face, and Carson knew he was excited about the prospect of no more hospital. He was probably more excited than Carson.

"You get to come home with me, Carsey!" he exclaimed. "No more gross hospital food for you. I'll make sure you only have stuff you like when this is over, ok?" _He's such an angel. _ _I bet he hates spending all his time in here, though. If it wasn't for me, he could be living a normal life, working at Vogue and hanging out with Trollberry, and I wouldn't be getting in the way with my stupid lightning injuries and embarrassing him with my bitching about the food here. I'm sorry, Kurtsie. I'll work on getting better for you. Ok?_

He did his best to be on good behavior for the next couple of days, although it was really very difficult. Every fiber of his being was screaming out to complain, especially now that he knew freedom (if one could call it that) was so close. He almost had a breakdown when he had a slight attack of what he called the "Tingles" the night before he was due to be discharged, making it necessary for Kurt to assist him in the bathroom again because he could barely feel his hands. He had hoped never to repeat that humiliating experience, and yet there he was, a useless blob of skin who couldn't even piss by himself. Again.

"I just want to be normal again," he said quietly as Kurt helped him back into bed. He was trying very hard not to cry out of frustration. "I just want things back the way they were. Or, you know, at least be able to do basic day to day shit like a fucking adult instead of a toddler." _And not be such a burden on you, when you didn't ever ask for any of this. Ever since I've been born I've caused you more trouble than you deserve._

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile and tucked him into bed, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. Lips were off limits, because Burt was sleeping in his chair, and Carson knew the risk of him waking up and seeing a kiss was too much. It was bad enough being caught by Sebastian, they definitely didn't need to add their dad to the list.

"I know, baby," Kurt replied, reaching up one hand to stroke Carson's hair gently. "But look at it this way. You must be improving a lot if they're ready to send you home, right? Otherwise they'd keep you here. You must be well enough that they think you can manage mostly on your own at home."

"I guess so," muttered Carson.

"And I'll be there. Every step of the way," assured Kurt. "I'm going to take such good care of you, and I'm sure you'll be back to your old self very soon."

"I hate that you have to take care of me," Carson mumbled as Kurt walked over to the other side of the bed and carefully climbed in beside him. "It's so wrong. I've always been the one taking care of you."

"Carsey, we've been over this," Kurt reminded him gently, wrapping his arms around him and giving him an affectionate squeeze. "I love you," he whispered into his ear, making Carson's stomach swoop pleasantly. "And when two people love each other, they do what they need to do in order to take care of each other. Ok? Now, I don't want you to worry about that anymore. I want you to focus on your recovery. Just think, this time tomorrow night, we'll be in our own bed." He gave Carson a big smile, and Carson couldn't help but smile back.

"That will be nice," he agreed. It really would be. It had been far too long, and the feeling of Kurt's smooth, high quality bed sheets would feel like heaven compared to the scratchy, shitty hospital sheets. Not to mention there would be far less risk of anyone walking in on them kissing at home. Sure, Rachel and their dad would be at the apartment, but there was always that privacy curtain. _Bless that privacy curtain. We can kiss all we want. God, I can't wait to go home._

"Of course it will. Now, I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep, baby," whispered Kurt, hugging him close. "I know it's been a rough night, but things will look better in the morning. They always do."

"Unless Sebastian is standing in the doorway," Carson quipped. "He texted me last night, you know. I don't even know how he got my number."

"Oh, really?" said Kurt in a false bright tone of voice dripping with the barely concealed jealousy that Carson found so hot. "What did it say?"

"It just said "What's up?" replied Carson. "I texted back "None of your damn business," and that was the end of it."

"Oh," said Kurt, hugging Carson just a little bit tighter to himself as he spoke. "How nice. Why don't we go to sleep now, ok?" He kissed the top of Carson's head once more, and Carson grinned to himself. Jealous Kurt was one of his favorite kinds of Kurt.

"Good night, Kurtsie," he said quietly, snuggling into Kurt's arms comfortably and resting his head on his chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too," replied Kurt. "More than you know, baby. More than you know."

* * *

Carson was beyond excited the next morning when he woke up. The first thing he registered was the comforting feeling of Kurt's arms around him, and he basked in the pure bliss of that for a few minutes until it dawned on him what today was.

_Holy fucking balls, I get to go home today!_ he thought excitedly, feeling much more awake and alert than he had a few seconds ago. _Oh god, oh god, oh god, I can't even wait anymore. I wonder if I should wake up Kurt. Naw, he looks comfortable. But I really want to get going as soon as possible. But I don't want to wake him. But I want to go home. But he looks so peaceful. Fuck._

He was still debating a minute later when the door to the room slowly opened. Carson was half afraid that Sebastian was about to enter the room, but it was Burt, who had the biggest grin on his face when he saw that Carson was awake.

"Hey, buddy. Guess who gets to go home today?" he said brightly crossing over to the bed and giving Carson a small hug. "Hmm...your brother's still out like a light."

"I know," replied Carson. "Poor thing must be exhausted from taking care of me all day, every day. We should let him sleep a little bit longer."

"Mmmph," mumbled Kurt, slowly opening his eyes, his grip on Carson getting a little tighter automatically. "No...no, I'm up. I'm up." He reached one hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I just...wait...today's the day, isn't it?" His eyes opened wide and he sat up in bed, looking excitedly from Carson to their father and back again. "Today's the day," he repeated. "We can go home today, Carsey!" He hugged Carson, and Carson was secretly glad that Burt was so used to them hugging and being overly affectionate and didn't even bat an eye, because that hug felt so good. "We can go home," Kurt repeated, and Carson caught a glimpse of tears in his twin's eyes.

"Kurtsie, don't cry," he said, reaching up to try to wipe away the tears from Kurt's face with his thumb. His coordination still wasn't the best, though, so all he managed to really accomplish was spread the tears around. "Please? You know I hate when you cry."

"Yeah, kid, cheer up," added Burt, giving Kurt a pat on the shoulder. "Today's gonna be a good day. Your brother's finally out of prison," he joked.

Kurt smiled through his tears. "I know, I just...Carsey, I'm so happy. I hated every minute of you being in this hospital when we...I mean, you...should have been living your life, and I just...I'm just so happy that I get to take you home today."

"That's right, you do," said Dr. Banks, strolling into the room with his ever-present clipboard. "How are we feeling today, Carson?"

"Well, doc, once again, I really couldn't say how _we _are feeling, because I'm not you and therefore I have no idea, nor do I really give a shit, how you're feeling. However, _I_ am feeling pretty excited about going home, so I swear to god if anything happens to prevent that, I'm not going to lie, I'm going to go totally psycho, and it's not going to be pretty," replied Carson calmly. Dr. Banks gave him a tight smile.

"Well, Carson, fortunately I can't see any reason why you shouldn't be able to go home today," he replied, and Carson thought he detected a slight hint of relief in his voice. "You're no longer critical enough to require hospitalization, so yes, you do get to go home. However, we will be scheduling some follow-up appointments in the near future, and you'll be continuing your physical therapy sessions. I understand that you're supposed to be starting college in Chicago in the fall, is that right?"

Carson blinked at him. Northwestern and Chicago seemed so very far away now, like the former dreams of someone else. He hadn't even thought about the fact that he was supposed to at least attend the fall semester there. _How am I supposed to manage being so far away from Kurt now? Even for six months? I'm not sure either one of us can handle that now, after all of this._

"I...um..." Carson stammered, wondering what the hell to say in response. He honestly had no idea what his future held anymore, and it occurred to him that his dad still had no idea of his original plan to transfer to a college in New York. Kurt looked just as unsure as Carson felt as he too pondered the doctor's question.

"Ok, well, whatever you end up doing or wherever you end up going, let us know during one of your appointments, and we'll see about transferring your medical records to a facility closer to you," said Dr. Banks, saving Carson from having to say anything. "Now, I'm giving you a couple of prescriptions when you leave today. One is for your nerve damage, and the other is for your headaches. The one for your headaches should keep much of the pain at bay while you finish recovering. And if you have any questions or ever need anything, my contact number is in the information packet that they'll give to you when you're released. Ok?"

"Great, when can I go?" asked Carson, getting right to the point.

"We'll let you get dressed, and then we can start the discharge paperwork," answered Dr. Banks. "Or someone could get started on the paperwork while you get ready."

Carson cast his best pleading look in Burt's direction and pouted. "Daaaaad?" he asked. "Pleeeeeeeease?" Burt chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.

"Ok. Ok, buddy. I'm on it. Kurt, get him ready. I think he'll just about fly out the window if we don't get him out of here soon."

"Dad, don't be ridiculous. I can't fly. My coordination is shit. I'd fall and break my neck," said Carson, and although Burt winced at the language, he didn't admonish Carson.

"Right, well, I'll be back, boys," he said, following Dr. Banks out of the room and leaving the boys alone. They hadn't been gone and the door shut for more than five seconds before Carson suddenly found his lips being ambushed by Kurt's as his twin pulled him into a deep, tender kiss.

"God, I'm so glad you're coming home with me," Kurt whispered before kissing Carson again. "No doctors or nurses or stupid, beeping machines. Just you and me. In our bed. I'm gonna spoil you so much, baby. You don't even know."

Carson smiled against Kurt's mouth and ran his tongue across his twin's bottom lip the way Kurt liked. "Mmm, we can do a lot of this, too, right?"

"You know it," replied Kurt. "Now, let's get you ready and dressed, hmm? I had Dad pick up one of your hoodies and a pair of jeans from the apartment, so you could feel like you again."

Several hours later, after Kurt had helped Carson shower and get dressed, all the discharge and insurance paperwork had been filled out, and the room was cleared out, Carson found himself in a wheelchair, being pushed by Kurt through the hospital lobby on his way home.

"The wheelchair is stupid," Carson complained as Kurt pushed him toward the door to wait while Burt filled out some last minute papers. "I can walk. My coordination isn't _that_ bad."

"It's the rules, Carsey," said Kurt brightly from behind him, reaching out one hand to ruffle his hair. "They don't want you to trip and fall on your way out and sue them for all they're worth, you know."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," mused Carson. "If I sued them, then I would be rich as fuck, and then you know what I would do? I would buy you the biggest, grandest New York City apartment I could find. And then there would be plenty of money for you to go all out with decorating, because I know how much you like that. You could go nuts. Think of it, Kurtsie. You could wallpaper the place in gold, if you wanted. Or lay it down on the floor. Buy any furniture you wanted, especially a nice bed with nice sheets for us. You know, for science."

Kurt laughed and took the hand that Carson was lazily reaching backwards. He brought the hand up to his lips and planted a soft kiss on the knuckles, and Carson's stomach flipped happily. "That would be really nice, Carsey, and I love you for thinking of me, but think of how many people would have to be without good medical care because you took away all the hospital's money. You don't want to be the one responsible for that, do you?"

Carson sighed. "I guess not. Damn, why do you have to be so kind and caring and perfect?"

Kurt shrugged. "It's a gift. Now stay in your wheelchair."

"Ready to go, boys?" asked Burt, approaching them with a smile.

"God, yes, get me the hell out of this hell hole," answered Carson. Kurt snorted and began pushing him out the door that Burt was holding open for them.

"Oh god, fresh air!" exclaimed Carson, taking a deep breath of the muggy city air. "Feels so damn good. I've been breathing in gross hospital germs for so long, I almost forgot what the outdoors smells like." He sniffed again and made a face. "Actually, it smells kind of like old hot dogs. Gross. I take it back."

"You're too much, Carsey," said Kurt, hailing a cab like an old pro and beginning to help him inside. "Just hold on. In a few hours, you'll be smelling food, because you'll be happy to know that I called Rachel yesterday. She's not planning to be around today, but before she disappeared for the weekend, I made her go grocery shopping with a very specific list I texted to her. I wasn't kidding when I said I planned to spoil you."

"You made her do it?" repeated Carson happily. "As in, gave her a direct order? For me?"

Kurt nodded. "Yep."

Carson smiled hopefully. "Did you tell her to get-"

"Chocolate ice cream? Yes. I did. Even though it will give you a headache and I think it's a bad idea," replied Kurt, settling into the backseat of the cab beside Carson and squeezing his hand. Carson rested his head against Kurt's shoulder and snuggled close as they made room for their dad to join them.

"You're the best bo..._brother_ ever," said Carson, correcting himself just in time. Kurt grinned and placed his arm around him, causing Carson's heart to start beating furiously in his chest. _God, I love him so much._

"I try," said Kurt. "Come on. Let's go home."

* * *

Kurt really hadn't been kidding when he said he was going to spoil Carson. After they had arrived back at the apartment and Kurt had settled Carson on the couch (at Carson's insistence, because he desperately wanted a break from laying in a bed), he wasted no time placing himself into the kitchen and cooking...well...everything and anything. There were so many good smells attacking Carson's nose at once that he didn't know what to focus on. All he knew was that it all smelled delicious, and he wanted to eat all of it.

"You didn't have to spoil me _this_ much, Kurtsie," said Carson after he had downed his fourth helping of his favorite chocolate chip pancakes that Kurt had made for him. "I'll be bursting out of my clothes if I eat much more, but..._god_ it's so damn good." He swiped his finger through the pool of syrup on his plate and stuck it in his mouth, closing his eyes to savor the flavor.

"Glad you enjoyed it," said Kurt, who had been sitting and watching Carson eat for the better part of an hour with a huge grin on his face. "Much better than the yucky hospital food, huh?"

"Fuck, yes," replied Carson. "You have no idea. Just...food, Kurt. _Food_. I haven't actually had any in so long.

Kurt smiled "I know, sweetheart. This is just the beginning of the food odyssey I plan to take you on. Do you think you have room for ice cream?"

Carson patted his stomach, as if literally checking if he had room. "Actually, Kurtsie, I think I'm kind of full."

"Kind of full?" said Burt, emerging from where he had been talking on his phone on the rollaway bed Kurt had set up for him in the corner of the living area. "With how much food Kurt made, I'm surprised you haven't turned into a giant waffle."

"Mmm-hmm, but he hasn't," said Kurt, checking his watch and pulling out Carson's prescription bottles, which they had picked up at a pharmacy on the way home that day.

"I don't know," said Carson thoughtfully. "Being a giant waffle might be fun. I wouldn't have been struck by lightning if I was a waffle. Or maybe I would have, but waffles are pretty resilient. At most I would have just been toasted a little."

"Giant waffles may be resilient, but so are you," said Kurt, shaking out a pill from each bottle and pushing them toward Carson, along with a small cup of water. "And to stay resilient, you're going to take your medicine now. I'm gonna have to put you on a schedule with alarms, so that we don't end up missing any doses. Swallow those, please."

Carson did as he was told without argument, swallowing down both pills and chugging down the water afterwards. "Couldn't ask for a better nurse," he said, giving Kurt a smile as his twin took the waffle plate and the cup away to wash. He wished that his dad wasn't around right now so he could have added a hugely inappropriate sponge bath joke, but alas. He filed it away for later use and pulled himself up from his seat, walking unsteadily toward Kurt and reaching for the glass. "Here, Kurt, let...let me help you," he said, but Kurt shook his head vigorously and gently took the cup out of Carson's shaking hand.

"Carsey, please. Just let me take care of you, ok?" he said with a smile, stroking Carson's arm and leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You've been through so much the past couple of weeks, and you deserve to just sit back and take it easy for a while. I don't want you overextending yourself. I want you to rest and get better. Ok?"

"It's just a glass, Kurt," Carson protested, but Kurt shook his head.

"Your only job around here right now is to recover," he insisted. "You'll need all your energy for that, so leave the dishes to me."

"And me," Burt chimed in, joining Kurt at the sink and grabbing a dirty plate. "Your brother's right, kid. Your body has been through an awful lot. Let it heal and leave the chores to us for a while. Ok?"

"Ok," agreed Carson, even though he didn't like feeling as though he was being lazy while his dad and Kurt did all the work. _I'll make it up to him when I'm well enough_, he decided. _Then it will go back to the way it used to be, and Kurt can be spoiled again like the precious prince he is._ "I'm kind of tired," he said. "I think I'll go lay down in bed. It's getting late, anyway."

"Yes," agreed Kurt. "Go lay down, Carsey. I'll be there in a few minutes and I'll lay with you, ok?" He winked at Carson, who smiled and nodded in understanding.

"Ok." He made his way into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, gazing with a smile at the clean, comfortable pajamas that Kurt had already laid out on top of the bedspread. _I really don't deserve him._ He decided that he could at least dress himself, if Kurt would let him do nothing else. It took quite a while, but eventually he managed to get out of his street clothes and put the pajamas on. He folded up the clothes neatly and placed them on a chair before climbing into the bed and getting under the covers, and had just settled in when Kurt entered, shutting the privacy curtain all the way and smiling over at Carson.

"Dad said goodnight," he said. "He's tired and is going to bed. He thought you were probably already sleeping. I figured you weren't, but I didn't say anything."

"Oh?" said Carson, raising one eyebrow. "And why was that?"

"Well, for starters, so I could do this," said Kurt quietly, crossing over to him and taking his face in both hands before pressing their lips together in a tender, passionate kiss. Carson saw stars dancing behind his eyes even after Kurt finally pulled away, his heart beating fast and his stomach doing somersaults amid all the half digested waffles.

"Wow," he breathed out, finally opening his eyes and staring into Kurt's, which were looking at him intently. "That was worth being struck by lightning for."

"That's not funny, Carsey," said Kurt with a frown. "You...you could have died, you know. I was so scared that you would, and I don't know what I would have done. I just kept thinking about how there was no way I could go on if you died. That my own life wouldn't have been worth living anymore. And I just..." He sniffed and Carson reached for his hand, taking it in both of his own and holding it tight.

"Kurt, I'm fine. I'm ok. I'm right here," he said. "You haven't lost me, and you won't. Ok? Everything is going to be fine. Please don't cry. And don't talk like that. You're scaring me." He let go of Kurt's hand and reached his arms up in invitation, which Kurt readily accepted as he leaned down and hugged him tight.

"I'm sorry. I'm never letting you go, baby," he whispered in Carson's ear. "Never."

"Good," said Carson in return. "Because I'll never let you go, either. Not if I can help it."

* * *

Carson awoke in the middle of the night, a terrible feeling of dread filling his stomach and chest as he wondered what the hell had woken him up. The room was dark and everything appeared normal. He was wrapped up in Kurt's arms, the room was quiet, the rain was tapping at the window...

Rain. The rain. Carson's head was suddenly filled with a vision of a wet street, at night, in the rain. He was crossing the street to get to his rental car, and then...nothing. Nothing but blackness. He struggled to control his rapid breathing as he wondered if that had been the lightning strike. If he was finally starting to remember.

_I don't want to remember_, he thought miserably, trying to squash the rising panic in his chest. _Oh god, please, no, I don't want to remember. I don't, I don't, I don't... _He took several deep breaths and concentrated on happy things. _You're ok, Carson. You're perfectly fine. Don't be an idiot. Just because it's raining doesn't mean anything is going to happen to you. It's not even thundering out. Just a little drizzle, that's all. And you're inside. Don't wake up Kurt. He'll just worry, and you don't want him stressing out and worrying about you, because you've put him through quite enough already, what with your inability to stay the fuck inside during storms. Oh god, my chest hurts so much. Good things, Carson. Let's think of good things. Happy things. Um..._

_Kurt. Kurt's face. Kurt's smile. Kurt watching you eat those waffles and looking so proud of himself. Kurt's lips and how beautiful and soft they are. Remember, he always says he gets them that soft by using that special lip balm of his. The strawberry flavored one that you like to lick off of his mouth when you kiss him. _

_Kurt's kisses. How excited Kurt gets when there's a sale at one of his favorite stores, and he gets that cute little gleam in his eye, and you know you're going to be dragged around for six hours while he tries on clothes and scarves and stuff, but you don't care. You don't, because shopping makes him so happy, and when he's happy, you're happy. And he's so damn adorable when he leaves the store all proud of himself for taking advantage of a sale and scoring a bargain._

_Kurt._

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, filled with relief as he felt the panic going away, leaving him sweaty and exhausted, but no longer scared of nothing. Kurt peacefully slept on, his breathing deep and even, and Carson smiled as he snuggled closer to him, relishing the strong, comforting feeling of his twin's arms around him.

_Kurt. Kurt makes me happy._

* * *

Kurt spent the next few days completely throwing himself into caring for Carson. He was just so happy to finally have him home, and to have him alive at all, that even though he knew he was probably going a little overboard with spoiling him, he didn't care. As it was, he felt guilty as hell that it had ever happened at all, even if Carson couldn't remember how or why it happened. He may not have remembered, but Kurt sure as hell did. When he thought of all that Carson and his poor body had been through in the past couple of weeks, all because Kurt had been a little too late in growing a spine and telling Blaine to leave him alone, well...guilt didn't even begin to cover what he felt, really.

So, he made it his mission to make life as easy as possible for Carson now that he was home. He didn't go to work or leave the apartment very much. He just devoted himself completely to Carson's care; cooking, keeping up with Carson's medication schedule, and in general making sure that his twin was as comfortable and happy as possible became his life. He gave fair warning to Rachel before she came home that Carson was still recovering from some very serious injuries, and that she was under strict instructions not to upset him in any way.

"He may be a little bit..._harsher_ with his criticism than he was before, but he can't help himself, so please, just...just give him a little leeway," he said to her in the hallway outside the apartment before she stepped inside.

"It's fine, Kurt," she assured him. "I took enough crap from him before the lightning, how much worse could he be now? Hi, Carson!" she greeted him as she entered. "I, um...I hope you're well."

"Hi, Trollberry," said Carson cheerfully from the kitchen table, where he was making impressive work, considering his coordination problems, of a huge bowl of chocolate ice cream. Kurt had no idea how he was able to eat that much without puking. "You know," he continued through a mouthful of ice cream, "Kurtsie told me something very interesting the other day."

_Oh, god,_ Kurt thought, groaning inwardly. _I shouldn't have told him what she said at the hospital, I really, really..._

"What...what's that, Carson?" asked Rachel, her face looking wary of whatever it was that Carson was about to say.

"He told me that _you_," Carson said, pointing his spoon at her, "tried to comfort him in the hospital while I was in the coma, _aaaaand_ he also said that you said I wouldn't die because then there would be nobody to call you Trollberry."

Rachel was silent for a second, clearly wondering what Carson was getting at. "Um...yeah. Yeah, I did say that. I knew you would pull through." Carson's face stretched into a diabolical grin.

"So, do you like it, Rachel? Do you like it when I call you Trollberry?" he asked, his grin growing wider by the second. "Because it sort of sounds to me as if you do."

Rachel looked trapped. "Uuum...I, uh..."

"Yeah, you like it," said Carson, working a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth before continuing. "And as such, I will make it my life's mission to make sure you hear it as much as possible. Trollberry."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well, it's good to see you're just as sassy as ever."

"Oh, I'm much worse!" Carson said gleefully. "Just you wait."

Rachel looked to Kurt for help, and Kurt clasped his hands together. "How about we all try to get along, hmm?" he asked, not sure who he was pleading to more, Carson or Rachel. "Since we're all going to be together for a while."

"I'll try to be on my best behavior for Trollberry, but I promise nothing," said Carson, casually slurping his melting ice cream from the spoon. "By the way, how is your hooker friend? I trust he's well."

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes again. "For god's sake, Carson, he is _not_ a hooker. And lightning or not, I'm really kind of getting sick and tired of you implying that he is one."

"Mmm, I _imply _nothing," said Carson. "I have a sixth sense about this shit, trust me."

"He is _not_!" exclaimed Rachel.

"Is too."

"Shut up!"

"Rachel!" Kurt admonished her, placing his arms protectively around Carson's shoulders. "Brain injury, remember? No filter? Be nice."

"But he-" Rachel protested, but Kurt just narrowed his eyes at her.

"Ugh," she groaned, heading in the direction of her room. Kurt sighed and looked at Carson, who looked up at him innocently as he worked a bite of ice cream around his mouth.

"I was merely trying to make things as normal as possible," he said with a grin that made Kurt's heart melt.

"You're too much," he said, ruffling Carson's hair and kissing his forehead. Clearly, it was going to be a long recovery for all of them, not just Carson.

* * *

"Kurt, can we go out somewhere?" Carson asked one morning, snuggling up against Kurt's body and letting out a hot puff of breath against his neck, which ironically made Kurt shiver. "I'm bored."

"We'd better not," replied Kurt with a sigh. "I don't think you're much up to going out yet."

"That's not true, Kurt," Carson protested. "I've been out since I've been home. We went and picked up the newspaper together that one morning, remember?"

"Yes, and I also remember that you shoved your phone at me, saying "Kurtsie! Film this!" and then proceeded to use my key to the apartment to cut the string of a little boy's balloon," replied Kurt. "You are so lucky that I managed to rush us out of there in time before anyone realized what you did."

"Well, I have to entertain myself somehow," Carson whined. "I'm sick of movies and TV and everything. We haven't even been able to...you know...fool around much," he whispered. "What with Dad and Trollberry always being around." Kurt sighed. He missed fooling around too, although if he was being entirely honest with himself, it wasn't really for lack of opportunity that they hadn't done much besides kiss since Carson was released from the hospital. It was because Kurt was constantly thinking about how fragile he was, and he didn't want to do anything that would overexert Carson and land him back in the hospital. He knew this was silly, and that Carson was a lot sturdier than that, but he couldn't help it. He worried anyway.

"I'm going stir crazy, Kurtsie," Carson said. "Come on. Please? Can we go into the city for a few hours? I'm so bored!" He cuddled closer to Kurt and looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Kurt sighed again. Carson was getting awfully good at begging with his eyes. It almost wasn't fair. Besides, Kurt supposed it _would_ be kind of fun to wander around the city for a while.

"I suppose so," he relented, and Carson gave him a huge grin and whispered "Yess!" under his breath. "But only for a few hours, and then we're coming straight back home. I don't want you exhausting yourself."

"Yes, yes," agreed Carson, locking his lips with Kurt's and kissing him sloppily. "You're the best."

"I know," said Kurt. "Let's get up, then."

Several hours later, they were on the subway heading into the city, and Kurt was nervously watching Carson like a hawk, looking out for the slightest sign of strain or tiredness. Carson seemed to be enjoying himself, though.

"Hey, Kurt," he said excitedly, turning to Kurt with a smile. "We should go to lunch while we're there. Anywhere you want. I'm not picky. Well, ok, I'm a little picky. I won't eat, like, snails or whatever. But anything else is fair game. Can we, Kurt? Can we go to lunch?"

Kurt snorted and nodded. "Yes, baby," he replied, taking Carson's hand in his. "Yeah, of course we can."

They spent a rather pleasant morning wandering around the city, ducking into various shops, making each other laugh, and generally just acting like the fun loving teenagers that they still were underneath all the hardship and drama they'd been through recently. Kurt stood back against a shop wall at one point, watching Carson try on a jester's hat for kicks, and smiled to himself as he thought about just how much he loved this man, and how very grateful he was that he still had him around _to_ love. _Screw you, lightning. You tried to take him from me, and you failed. Suck it._

"Hey, Kurtsie, come take a picture with me," said Carson, breaking into Kurt's thoughts as he thrust a second jester's hat into his hands. "Come on, I don't want to be the only one in the picture looking like a weirdo."

"Hmm, are you implying that I would also look like a weirdo?" asked Kurt as he threw caution to the wind and put the hat on, trying not to think about the havoc it was probably going to play with his hair.

"Mmmm, yes. But a very, very cute weirdo," replied Carson with a smile. Kurt smiled back and pulled out his phone, leaning in close so that his face was right next to Carson's.

"Say cheese!" he said as he snapped the photo. He had to admit, he thought they looked pretty adorable together in the picture. Even with the stupid hats.

"Well, well, well," said a familiar voice from behind them, and Kurt cringed as he recognized Sebastian's signature tone.

"Oh my _god_, you always turn up at the most inopportune times," he snapped, turning around to glare at the other boy. "Do you have some kind of radar or something?"

"No, but you two also weren't exactly easy to miss as I was walking past the window," replied Sebastian casually. "Not in those hats. What's the deal with those, anyway? Looking to add costumes into the bedroom mix? For your jester fetish?"

"You shut the hell up," Carson hissed, yanking the hat off his head and clumsily hanging it back on the rack it had come from. "That's none of your business."

"So it _is_ a fetish?"

"Come on, Carson, let's go," said Kurt irritably, taking Carson's arm and starting to lead him away from Sebastian, who rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," he said. "I know, I have issues with making inappropriate remarks. Come on. Don't leave."

"We were about to leave anyway," Kurt muttered. "It's just about time for lunch, so.."

"Kurt?" said another familiar voice, and Kurt turned around to see his boss, Isabelle, walking toward the three of them, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I thought I saw you talking to Sebastian. It's been so long!"

"Yeah," replied Kurt, returning Isabelle's smile and trying to make himself look like he hadn't just been mentally throwing darts at her nephew. "I know I haven't been to work in forever, I just...my brother..."

Isabelle nodded in understanding. "I know. That must have been so hard." Her gaze flicked over Carson and her eyes lit up in recognition as she held her hand out for him to shake. "You must be him!" she said excitedly. "Um...Carl?"

"Carson," Carson corrected her, taking the offered hand and shaking it as well as he could.

"Carson," she repeated, smiling at him. "I'm Kurt's boss, Isabelle Wright. And I guess you know my nephew," she added, indicating Sebastian. Carson's face tightened.

"Yeah, we know each other," he said in a surprisingly polite tone for him, Kurt thought. _He must be trying to make a good impression because she's my boss. He's so sweet._ "I, um...I hope you won't be too hard on Kurt for missing work so much. It's entirely my fault. He's been busy taking care of me."

"I'll bet," whispered Sebastian, low enough for the boys to hear but not Isabelle. Carson coughed. Kurt gritted his teeth and tried not to blush at the innuendo.

Isabelle shook her head. "Not at all. Don't even worry about it. His position isn't going anywhere." Sebastian gave the boys a cheeky grin and a raise of the eyebrows at the word "position" and Kurt valiantly did his best to ignore him.

"Thank you so much, Isabelle," Kurt said. "I really appreciate you being so understanding."

"No problem," she said. "How _are_ you doing now, Carson?"

"Um, pretty good, I guess," he answered awkwardly. "Feeling better every day."

"Good," she replied. "Good. Well, it was nice running into you. Kurt, you let me know when you're ready to come back to work, ok?"

"Will do," Kurt replied, nodding as Sebastian grinned at him annoyingly.

"So, are you going to buy that lovely hat you're wearing, or...?" he asked, amused. Kurt groaned as he realized he was still wearing the damn jester hat and yanked it off, setting it to join its twin on the rack.

"You're insufferable," he said to Sebastian as Isabelle turned away from them to look at something. Sebastian shrugged.

"I prefer interesting," he said. "I'll be seeing you around. Don't do anything I wouldn't do until then."

"Doesn't narrow it down much, then, does it?" Kurt quipped, and Sebastian made an exaggerated gesture as though he had been stabbed in the heart.

"You wound me, Kurt," he said. "Carson, I sincerely hope you feel better soon."

"Thanks," Carson muttered as Sebastian turned to go join Isabelle. Kurt sighed and gently tugged at his arm.

"Let's go, before he thinks of anything else to say," said Kurt, leading him out of the store and onto the street outside. "I really don't get why he's so determined to be our best pal all of a sudden. It's creepy."

"Kurt?" asked Carson as they walked down the street. He sounded like he had something weighing on his mind, and Kurt was immediately concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Are you feeling ok? Is it your head? Your hands? Do you need to sit?"

"No, no, it's not that," said Carson quickly. "I'm fine. I was just wondering...when _are_ you going back to work?"

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief and took Carson's hand in his. "When you're better," he replied. "When you don't need me as much. I don't want to leave you alone all day while I'm at _Vogue_."

"Well, right now I wouldn't be alone," Carson pointed out. "Dad is still here with us. Trollberry is around occasionally. And who knows how long it will be before I'm completely better? You can't throw your life away waiting for that to happen, Kurtsie. Like I've told you before, I'm not going to let you mess up your future at _Vogue_ for me. And besides, what about college? As much as I really don't want to, I'm probably going to have to stick with our original plan of going back to Chicago for the fall."

Kurt let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding throughout Carson's speech and sighed. "I was afraid of that," he said sadly. "After all that's happened, I really don't want to be separated from you. Even just for a few months. I'm going to worry about you so much, and.."

"Shhh," said Carson, taking Kurt's other hand and stroking it gently. "I know, baby. It's going to be twice as hard now, but we really don't have any other choice. And since we don't, I can't let you just keep putting off going back to work just because of me. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to me, because then I feel guilty as hell."

Kurt looked down at his feet and shuffled them around. "I guess you're right. I just...I want so much to protect you from anything bad ever happening to you again."

"I know, Kurtsie," said Carson, pressing his forehead to Kurt's and touching their noses together. "But I'll be fine. Ok?"

"People can see," whispered Kurt, swallowing as the butterflies in his stomach did a crazy dance.

"So what?" Carson whispered back. "None of them know us. Besides, we're twins. Twins in general are affectionate with each other. I dare anyone to prove a damn thing."

Kurt laughed. "You're right."

"Of course I am," said Carson with a grin. "Now, let's go to lunch, ok?"

* * *

"Ok, Carson, you have my cell phone number, right?" asked Kurt nervously as he checked his hair in the mirror.

"Yes, Kurt," Carson assured him.

"And the number of the Vogue office?"

"Yes, Kurt."

"Dr. Banks' number?"

_"Yes_, Kurt."

"All the other emergency numbers?"

"Oh my god, Kurt, you're going to only be gone for eight hours, and Dad is going to be here the entire time," said Carson exasperatedly. "You're not leaving me in a canoe in the middle of Niagara Falls, you know. I'll be perfectly fine."

"I know, I just worry," said Kurt, frowning at his reflection critically in the mirror.

"Well, don't," said Carson, smiling inwardly at the cute way Kurt's eyebrows furrowed together whenever he got himself ready to leave for work. "Worrying is my job. And you'll need all your energy to go grab _Vogue_ by the balls, so go out there and...you know...grab it by the balls."

Kurt snorted and turned around, wrapping Carson up in a hug. "You call me if you need _anything_," he ordered. "And remember to take your meds. I set the alarms for you, just in case you forget. And don't let Dad eat anything fried. Or covered in bacon fat."

"You really have so little faith in my babysitting abilities?" came Burt's voice from the direction of the kitchen. "I'm hurt, Kurt. Who do you think is responsible for the fact that the both of you made it to adulthood relatively intact?"

"Sorry, Dad!" Kurt called as Carson giggled. He leaned in and caught Carson's lips in a quick kiss, applying just enough suction to make Carson dizzy with feelings. "I'll see you tonight, love. Stay in one piece for me."

"I'll try," said Carson. "Now go, or you'll be late. And call me when you get there so that _I_ don't have to worry about _you_."

Kurt grinned. "I will. Love you," he said, kissing Carson quickly one more time before heading out of the bedroom. "Make sure he takes his meds, Dad," he heard his twin say before he slid the heavy door open and left the apartment. It would just be Carson and his dad today. Rachel was god knew where. She had been making herself scarce ever since Carson had been released from the hospital, which honestly was perfectly fine with him. He shuffled himself into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from his dad, who was eating a bowl of Corn Flakes and reading the morning paper thoughtfully.

"Your brother's slowly becoming much more of a worrier than you ever were about him," he said around a mouthful of cereal.

"I know," said Carson with a sigh. "I wish he wouldn't worry so much. I'm still alive and I plan to be for a very long time."

Burt gave him a small smile. "I understand where he's coming from, buddy. When you...when the lightning happened, we didn't know if you were going to make it. Kurt was hysterical when he called to tell me what happened. Said that he hadn't seen you for hours and that nobody had told him anything. And then..." he trailed off, clearly thinking twice about finishing his thought.

"What, Dad?" asked Carson, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd never actually thought much about how it must have been for Kurt after the accident. The hours of waiting, not knowing if Carson was alright...Carson knew that if it had been the other way around, he would have gone fucking insane with worry.

Burt sighed, his voice shaking as he recalled what happened. "You almost died, kid. While you were in the coma."

Carson felt an icy weight settle in his stomach. "What?"

Burt nodded seriously. "You went into cardiac arrest and they had to resuscitate you. They...they actually were about to pronounce you dead, and Kurt and I were both distraught, but Kurt...I mean, kid, he _really_ lost it. You're the most important thing in the world to him, you know."

Carson said nothing. He couldn't. He didn't trust himself not to burst into tears if he tried. _Oh god, Kurt...Kurt, I'm so sorry that I put you through that. I never would have left you. I wouldn't just die on you like that. Oh fuck, baby, I'm sorry!_ He could only imagine what had gone through Kurt's mind in that moment, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Fortunately, you had a lot of fight in you, and you came back," Burt continued. "But I can see why Kurt has gone nuts trying to protect you since you woke up. He doesn't want to lose you."

Carson nodded, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. "I think I'm going to go back to bed for a while," he croaked, and Burt nodded.

"Ok, kid. Call me if you need anything, ok?"

"Ok." Carson made his way back into the bedroom and into bed, his thoughts an absolute mess. He felt so terrible for Kurt when he thought about what that must have been like, seeing Carson essentially die in front of him. He felt sick. _Kurt, baby, I'm SO sorry._

He stayed in bed most of the day, only coming out to eat and take his meds. Kurt called every fifteen minutes or so, and Carson didn't even tease him about being such a worrywart. He couldn't, not now that he understood _why_. When Kurt finally came home that evening, Carson practically launched himself at him, hugging him so tight that he thought maybe they'd be stuck together like that from now on.

"What a welcome," said Kurt teasingly, returning the hug and stroking gently up and down Carson's back. "Did you make it through the day alright without me?"

"No," said Carson, burying his face in Kurt's neck. "But seeing you now makes it worth it."

He could barely wait until bedtime, because he just wanted to melt into Kurt and never separate from him ever again. It seemed like it took forever, but finally they found themselves snuggling against each other in bed as Kurt held Carson and Carson basked in how nice it felt to be held.

"I've missed you," he said quietly when he was sure Burt was sound asleep out in the living room. Kurt smiled and stroked his shoulder lazily.

"I know, baby. I missed you too. This was the longest work day ever, I swear."

"I didn't mean that," said Carson. "I mean, I've missed _you_. You know...us. Being together. In...in _that_ way." Kurt finally got what he was getting at and his eyes widened.

"Oh...Carsey, I...I miss..._that_...too, but...I mean we can't...not right now," he whispered frantically. "Dad is out there, and...and you're still so fragile...I...I don't want to break you."

"Kurtsie, no," Carson protested. "I won't break. I promise. I...I need you," he whispered. "I need to feel you. I just...I just need to. Please?" He took Kurt's hand in his own and gently guided it onto his chest so that Kurt could feel his heartbeat. "See?" he whispered. "Still beating. Still alive. Please...make love to me again?"

He saw Kurt swallow in the dark and look at him intently. "What about Dad?"

"Dad sleeps like a log," Carson insisted. "Kurt, please. I'll...I'll understand if you don't want to do it, but I just..."

His words were cut off by Kurt's lips on his own, silencing him with a passionate, desperate kiss, his lips pressing earnestly against Carson's, almost as if he were trying to attach their mouths to one another.

"So...is this a yes?" asked Carson.

"Mmm," Kurt murmured in reply, pulling him into another kiss, this one much more messy than the last one. He nipped ever so gently at Carson's bottom lip, and Carson held back a moan, mindful that they didn't have the apartment to themselves. Which was a shame, because just as he was thinking this, he felt Kurt's tongue slip into his mouth and intertwine with his own. He forgot whose tongue was whose and just went joyfully along for the ride, letting Kurt do what he wanted and enjoying every second. His twin's lips eventually left his to travel down to Carson's neck, where he began placing the gentlest of feather-light kisses all over the exposed skin as Carson bit back a whimper.

"You're gonna have to stay quiet, baby," whispered Kurt as he reached for the hem of Carson's T-shirt. "Ok?"

Carson nodded, and Kurt slowly pulled his T-shirt up and off, tossing it aside before leaning his head back down to begin leaving a trail of kisses down Carson's chest. The burned skin on his torso from the lightning strike had mostly healed up by now, save for one large, feathery expanse across his chest and fading away into his stomach, which Carson always thought reminded him of a vine growing against a wall when he looked at it in the mirror. He'd done enough reading on lightning injuries to know it would fade with time, but for now he kind of thought it looked pretty badass. Like some kind of tattoo. He watched as Kurt raised his head and looked at it curiously, his eyebrows furrowing together. He'd seen it before. Carson knew he had, because he had helped Carson in the shower numerous times in the hospital, but for some reason now he was looking at it differently.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked Carson. Carson shook his head.

"Not really. It's a little tender, but not painful. And I'm hopped up on pain meds most of the time anyway." Kurt nodded and leaned down, kissing the scar gently and brushing his fingers across it.

"I hate that you have it," he said sadly.

"I don't," said Carson. "I think it looks pretty awesome."

Kurt snorted. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now please, can I have more kisses?" asked Carson, and Kurt smiled before continuing what he had started. He worshiped every inch of skin with his lips, taking his time, and Carson sighed happily as he lay back to enjoy it. He soon felt soft fingers brushing against the waistband of his pajama pants, and he eagerly nodded, proud of himself for holding in the moan of "Yes" that he had wanted to let out. Kurt carefully removed the pants, along with Carson's underwear, and worked his way down each of his legs in turn, lavishing them with the same attention he had paid to Carson's stomach and chest. He nipped the back of Carson's knee on his way back up, and Carson gasped.

"You're beautiful, Carsey," Kurt whispered. He caught Carson's lips back in his own, kissing him tenderly as he fumbled with his own clothes. It took him a while, because he didn't seem to want to stop kissing Carson, but eventually he was naked and settling himself gently half on top of Carson, taking care not to touch his scar too much, Carson noticed. Their hips rolled together as they shared a kiss, and Carson shivered at the feeling of Kurt's growing hardness brushing up against his own.

"God, Kurt," Carson moaned quietly, snaking his hands down Kurt's back until they reached his ass, which he only hesitated a second before giving an experimental squeeze. Kurt gasped and rutted against him as Carson felt his own hips bucking up into the contact.

"Kurt, please," Carson gasped into the kiss as their movements increased and he desperately clutched at Kurt's ass. "Please, baby, please."

"Do you want me, Carsey?" asked Kurt in between kisses. "Tell me, baby."

"Fuck, yes," Carson gasped. "I do. I want you. Just please..."

Kurt kissed him one more time and nodded, rolling off of him briefly to reach into the nightstand for lube and a condom. Carson thought about asking for Kurt's feelings about no condom, but decided that since this was going to have to be a very hushed, secret encounter, they were probably better off using one. Easier clean up and all.

"Hurry," Carson pleaded, and Kurt obliged, lubing up his fingers and beginning to gently prepare Carson, working fast but with care as he gradually made his way up to three fingers. It still felt like an eternity to Carson before Kurt was finally pulling his fingers out and tearing open the condom, slicking it onto himself and adding more lube as he gazed lovingly down at Carson.

"Are you ready, baby?" he asked as he lined himself up. Carson nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Kurt, before beginning to push inside. Carson bit his lip to keep from crying out, since even after all the preparation it still burned a little as Kurt entered him. He gripped Kurt's shoulders and waited for the burning to fade into a pleasant stretch, which thankfully happened relatively soon.

"Are you ok?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah," answered Carson with a smile. "I...you can move. Please, god, _move_." He desperately needed to feel Kurt moving in him right now, and Kurt certainly didn't disappoint. He started slowly, thrusting in and pulling back out with long, careful strokes as he looked into Carson's eyes, as though searching for any sign of distress.

"I'm fine, baby," Carson assured him, thrusting his hips up as well as he was able in order to match Kurt's pace. Kurt adjusted his hips ever so slightly, and Carson almost forgot that he was supposed to be quiet as the next thrust had him seeing stars.

"God! Oh fuck, Kurt, please, more," he hissed, gasping as Kurt thrust and hit that sweet spot inside of him again. Kurt responded by increasing the speed of his thrusts until Carson was practically drowning in pleasure.

"Kurt," he groaned out, his voice broken and wrecked as Kurt continued pounding into him, the blankets surrounding them masking the sound of skin slapping together. Carson felt a soft hand encircling his swollen dick and starting to stroke him, and he didn't think he would be able to handle the sensations without passing out.

"Kurt," he whined low in his throat as he felt himself tumbling over the edge, riding out a seemingly endless wave of bliss as Kurt's thrusts became erratic and he also came, his face flushed and his mouth hanging open as he lost himself in his own orgasm. He was gorgeous like this. Simply gorgeous.

"Oh my god," said Carson after they had laid there holding onto each other like that for several minutes, trying to catch their breath.

"I know," panted Kurt. "Wow." He pulled carefully out of Carson and placed a soft kiss to his scar.

"We...how are we going to clean up?" asked Carson, and Kurt chuckled.

"I still have all those damn moist towelettes from the hospital," he said with a grin. "Who knew they'd come in handy here at home? We can use those and get dressed again, and shower in the morning."

Carson snorted and pulled Kurt into a deep kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too."


	29. Chapter 29

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize that this chapter was late. Real life interfered with writing over the weekend. Anyway, here we are with the newest chapter! It's equal parts smut and plot, and we hope you enjoy. And, as always, we love all our readers more than Kurt loves his secret stash of bridal magazines.**

**Let's read!**

_There they were on a gorgeous, green hillside, just the two of them, surrounded by lilacs and the smell of the ocean, even though Kurt couldn't see any ocean. Not that this mattered to him very much, because Carson was there, looking at him adoringly and smiling as he held out his hand. There was no shaking. There were no signs of pain on his face or any trace of a lightning scar visible above the neck of his shirt. It was just Carson as Kurt had always known him before, strong and healthy and gazing at Kurt as though he was the moon and the stars. Kurt accepted the offered hand and found himself being swept into Carson's gentle embrace, their lips touching lightly as his twin held him safely in his arms._

_"I love you, Kurtsie," Carson whispered in his ear._

_"I know," Kurt replied. "I love you, too."_

_"Well, since I love you, and you love me, would you do me a favor?" asked Carson, pulling away slightly from their shared hug to look into Kurt's eyes._

_Kurt nodded eagerly. "Anything, Carsey. Absolutely anything. Just name it."_

_"Will you be my husband?"_

_Kurt blinked, wanting to make sure he'd heard right. "Your...your husband?" Carson nodded, smiling shyly. Kurt grinned and pulled Carson back into the hug, squeezing tight as waves of happiness washed over him and he felt their hearts beating in time with one another._

_"Of course I will, baby," he said. _

_"You will?" asked Carson, happiness and hope spilling out in his voice._

_"Of course!" Kurt repeated. "There's no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. You know that." He pressed his lips against Carson's, and then suddenly everything changed. The hillside was gone, and he was laying back on a grand sized bed, large enough to get lost in, among a sea of soft, satin pillows as Carson worked his way down his body with his mouth. His twin pressed a gentle kiss every few inches to the exposed skin of Kurt's torso (wait...exposed? When did he lose the clothes? Who cares, his stubble feels so nice...), until he finally reached his target between Kurt's legs. Kurt knew somehow that this was a dream, and yet...it felt real. Like..._

_Really real..._

His eyes opened lazily as he slowly faded back into consciousness, taking in his surroundings. He wasn't on a grassy hillside anymore, or on a humongous bed with satin pillows. It was very early morning and he was in his own bedroom, in his own bed, and, ok, he was naked from the waist down and there was _definitely_ a warm, wet mouth on his dick right now. He looked down to see Carson settled happily between his legs, one hand gently stroking at Kurt's thigh while the other one clumsily worked what he didn't already have in his mouth. Kurt bit his lip and let out a quiet moan before he remembered that their dad was sleeping out in the living room and making a lot of noise wasn't really an option right now. Carson looked up at him from underneath his eyelashes and popped off of him, placing a tender kiss to the tip before speaking.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he whispered, his voice a little rough, and Kurt flushed at the realization that it was because of what he had just been doing. He smiled lazily down at Carson and raised one eyebrow.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows in order to see better. Carson grinned and continued stroking Kurt's thigh tenderly, drawing little circles on the skin with his finger.

"Well, I'd been up for a while, just watching you sleep. Fuck, that sounds creepy. I mean, I couldn't _help_ but watch you sleep, you know, because you were all cuddled up next to me. And you were mumbling and making the cutest little face, and then I heard you say my name and, um...I felt a little something pressing into my leg." Carson stopped for air and gave Kurt a shy smile. "Or, I guess, a not so little something. "

Kurt snorted. "You're so cute. And then you decided you'd wake me up with a blowjob, right?"

"Right," said Carson, nodding seriously. "I've really missed tasting you. It was my favorite thing before. You...you don't mind, do you?"

Kurt shook his head emphatically. "No, Carsey. Of course not. You can feel free to wake me up this way any time you want."

Carson grinned and pressed a kiss to Kurt's stomach, and Kurt felt the scratch of his stubble against his skin, sending electric jolts of pleasure through him. Carson hadn't been able to do much in the way of shaving since he'd lost control of his coordination, and Kurt had to admit, the slight stubble his twin had grown on his face due to this was a serious turn-on. He'd had no idea he even had a facial hair kink, but he supposed there was always room to discover something new.

"Were you kissing down my chest before?" asked Kurt, remembering his dream. "Before I woke up, I mean?"

Carson smiled and nodded. "Yep."

"I could feel it," said Kurt. "In my dream. I dreamed about you doing that. It felt nice. You should definitely keep the stubble."

Carson raised his eyebrows and gave Kurt an amused look. "Oh? Does scratchy stubble turn you on?"

"You have no idea."

"You were dreaming about me, huh?" asked Carson quietly, working his way up Kurt's body to lightly suck one of his nipples into his mouth. "Good dream?"

Kurt thought about the marriage proposal on the hillside and smiled. "The best." He tossed his head back against the pillows as Carson worked on his nipple, doing his best to contain the moan he desperately wanted to release. "You planning on finishing what you started, or...?"

Carson dropped his mouth open in fake surprise. "Like I would ever leave you hanging like this?" he asked, giving Kurt's nipple one last flick with his tongue before settling back between his legs and taking his erection back into his hand. "That would just be cruel of me."

"Yeah, it wou- _oh_," Kurt cut himself off as Carson went back to what he had been doing before Kurt woke up. He delicately sucked at the tip, teasing him as he looked up at him with a sly look on his face, clearly pleased with himself.

"Carson," Kurt whimpered quietly, praying to all the gods he didn't even believe in that their father was still sound asleep. _It's ok, Kurt, he wears earplugs because he doesn't like the sound of the traffic outside, and the police sirens. He can't hear a thing. Relax and enjoy this._ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Carson grasped his hand, struggling to interlock their fingers until Kurt gathered his brain together and helped him. Carson took his mouth off of him only long enough to whisper "Love you" and kiss the inside of his thigh before he lowered his mouth onto Kurt's length. He took as much of him in as he could, and Kurt bit his lip hard to keep from moaning as he felt himself brush the back of Carson's throat.

_Oh my god I feel like such a dick thinking this, but I'm so glad that he hasn't lost his ability to do that, because...oh shit..._Carson chose that moment to hum quietly around him, and the vibrations nearly caused Kurt to pass out. "Carson, oh god," he whispered as Carson pulled slowly off of him, dragging his tongue deliciously on his way. He twirled his tongue around the sensitive ridge on the underside where Kurt's shaft met his tip, and Kurt had to press his own fist against his mouth to keep from crying out, it felt so damn good.

"Like that?" Carson asked cheekily. Kurt nodded eagerly.

"God, yes. Keep doing..._fuck_," Kurt moaned as quietly as he could as Carson took him back into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down as he worked Kurt over. Clearly, the lightning hadn't taken away his twin's impossibly perfect ability to give the best head ever given, and Kurt's breathing grew faster and faster as Carson brought him closer and closer to the peak of pleasure with his delightfully warm, talented mouth.

"Car...Carsey..." Kurt moaned, feeling himself on the brink of falling apart the more Carson used his mouth. Carson squeezed his hand and gave a particularly hard suck, and Kurt was gone, spilling into Carson's mouth before he could even form the words to warn him that it was going to happen. He felt Carson's throat constricting around him as he swallowed everything Kurt gave him, and the sight of him as he popped off of Kurt, his face flushed and his lips swollen and almost cherry red, would have immediately gotten Kurt hard again if he hadn't just come.

"You taste so good," Carson said, closing his eyes and licking his lips, as though it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Kurt let out a huge breath and threw one arm over his eyes as he felt Carson cleaning him with his tongue.

"You're amazing," he breathed, and Carson let out a quiet little laugh, tucking Kurt back into his pajama pants and crawling back up the bed to cuddle beside him.

"I try," he answered as Kurt wrapped him up in his arms. "I just really love making you feel good."

"I love you so much," Kurt whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Carson's lips and moaning as he tasted himself on him. "We really should stop doing stuff like this while Dad is in the other room, though."

Carson groaned. "I know. God, I love him, I really do, but I cannot _wait_ for him to go home. I hate having to be so quiet."

"I know, baby," said Kurt, kissing him on the forehead. "But he and I both just want to make sure you don't need him anymore before he leaves."

"I don't," said Carson stubbornly. "I don't need any help while you're at work. I'm not a baby. I can remember to take my own pills and shit, you know."

"I know, honey," said Kurt, giving him an affectionate squeeze. "But I worry. Yesterday was anything but fun for me. I couldn't concentrate on my work because I was so worried about you and how you were doing."

"I know," replied Carson. "You called me every five minutes to make sure I was still alive. Or hadn't burned the apartment down."

Kurt snorted. "I wasn't worried about _that._ But I _was _worried. I just...having you out of my sight is a very scary thing for me now, ever since...you know. I know it's stupid, but..."

He was cut off my Carson's finger on his lips, gently shushing him into silence. "Kurtsie, I know. I..." He took a deep breath and looked into Kurt's eyes as he gulped. "Um...Dad told me. About the hospital, and how...how I almost died."

Kurt sucked in a breath, letting Carson's words sink in. He'd hoped never to relive any of the horrible week that Carson was in a coma, much less the day he had died and come back to life. _Damn it, Dad, why would you even tell him that? The last thing I ever wanted to happen was for him to know about that. I don't want him thinking about death while he's supposed to be getting better. _Carson's eyes darkened with worry. "I'm sorry, Kurtsie," he said quietly. "But I just...I'm glad that I know now, even if I hate thinking about you worrying about me."

Kurt used one hand to brush away a stray piece of hair from Carson's forehead before cupping his face. "It was horrible, Carsey. Just...just horrible. I was already such a wreck, because when you were first struck and taken to the hospital, they took you away from me so quickly and told me to wait in the waiting room, and I just...Carsey, you have no idea how beside myself I was. They wouldn't tell me anything for hours, and all I could think about was "What if he dies? What if I have to spend the rest of my life without him?" Carson, I wasn't sure if I could do it. And then after you almost _did_ die, I just...my heart broke. It just broke. I thought about our future and everything we'd never get the chance to do together, and I just..."

Carson placed his finger to Kurt's lips again to silence him before hugging him close, burying his face in Kurt's neck. Kurt took a shaky breath as he realized he had started crying during his speech, and struggled to calm down. It wouldn't do to get so upset. Carson shouldn't have to worry about comforting him right now, not when he was supposed to be concentrating on healing.

"I'm alive, Kurtsie," he said, his voice muffled and his breath hot against Kurt's skin. "I'm here. I didn't die, and I won't. Not for a long time, baby. Ok?"

Kurt smiled and hugged him, feeling their hearts beat against each other and thanking his lucky stars that he still had Carson in his life. "Ok. Now...how about we take turns getting showers, hmm?"

* * *

The next day was Carson's first physical therapy session at the hospital, and to say that he didn't want to go would be the understatement of the century. The last thing he felt like doing was going back to that fucking hospital and being treated like a sick person. He especially wasn't looking forward to everything he couldn't do being pointed out and highlighted by some person he didn't even know, which was probably going to make him feel even worse about himself than he already did.

He didn't dare complain in front of Kurt, though. He wanted him to go to work and concentrate on doing his best. He didn't want him to have to worry about him. At least, not any more than he was going to, anyway. _Vogue _needed him to be the best that he could be. They didn't need him being distracted with worrying over whether or not Carson was having a good time squeezing a stress ball or whatever. So when Kurt asked him brightly at breakfast if he was ok about going, Carson simply smiled and nodded.

"I'll be fine, Kurtsie," he insisted. "It's only for an hour, and Dad said we could go get ice cream afterwards."

Kurt frowned. "You have all the alarms set up on your phone, right? For your pills? It's really important that you take them, especially if you're going to be eating that stuff..."

"Kurtsie, it's seriously disturbing how much you've turned into me," Carson replied calmly through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you worrying about me makes me all tingly inside and shit, but I promise you, I'll be fine." He hid a smile as he saw Kurt blush at his comment. _Oh, Kurtsie, baby. You're so adorable._

"I was just checking," said Kurt. "I know that you know your own pill schedule, I just..."

"I know, Kurtsie," said Carson, reaching across the table to pat Kurt's hand affectionately. "I have the alarms all set, and I have the pill bottles in the plastic knapsack thing you got for me. Along with every emergency number known to man, dog, and alien. And Dad will be with me the whole time. So I want you go to work and not worry your adorable little head about me, ok?" He shoveled more cereal into his mouth, proud of himself for managing the spoon without spilling one single bit of cereal onto himself. _That's a first. See, Kurt? I'll be fine._

"Ok," agreed Kurt, leaning across the table to kiss Carson's forehead. "I'll call you later, and I'll see you tonight. Hey, how about we order pizza for dinner?"

"With extra pepperoni?" asked Carson hopefully. Kurt grinned.

"Sure. We'll tell them to lay it on thick," replied Kurt with a wink. Carson grinned.

"You have no idea how tempted I am to make a really inappropriate joke right now," he said, and Kurt snorted.

"Be good," he said, getting up from the table and walking around it to give Carson a hug. "Call me when your appointment is over, ok? I want to know how it went."

Carson resisted the urge to sigh and nodded. "Ok. I will." He hugged Kurt back and snuck in a quick pat on his ass, causing Kurt to jump in surprise.

"Carsey!" he whispered with a giggle.

"What?" Carson whispered back with a grin. "It's irresistible."

Kurt patted him on the head and kissed his forehead once more before grabbing his shoulder bag and heading out the door with a wave. Carson waved back and turned his attention back to his cereal, carefully trying to place the last bite in his mouth and inwardly groaning as he lost control of his hand, spilling half the milk and marshmallows down the front of his sleep shirt. _Fuuuuuck. Goddammit, why can't I just have normal hands? Oh, well. At least it didn't happen in front of Kurt. That's something, I guess._ He took his bowl in both hands and walked it over to the sink, shakily turning on the faucet and rinsing it out slowly while he brooded over not wanting to go to fucking physical therapy.

"Hey, kid," said his dad as he walked into the kitchen. "It's your first appointment today. You excited?"

"Thrilled," muttered Carson. "There's absolutely nothing I'm looking forward to more than going back to that hospital and having every single thing wrong with me listed with bullet points so that they can make me embarrassingly work out my hands for an hour."

Burt gave him a sympathetic smile and crossed over to him, gently taking the cereal bowl out of his hands. "Here, let me do that," he said, taking over the duty of washing it while Carson sighed loudly.

"Daaaaad, I can wash my own damn bowl!" he whined. "I'm not a baby and I'm not an invalid!"

"I know, Carson, I know," said Burt tiredly. Carson felt a little bad for him. He usually took the brunt of Carson's frustration, since Carson worked very hard at not losing his cool around Kurt. "And I know you don't want to go to your appointment, but it's necessary for you to heal. Besides, you know that it's important to your brother. He wants you to heal the most. You're the world to him, you know."

Carson swallowed. He knew, alright. "I can wash my own bowl," he repeated, for lack of anything else to say. Burt finished washing the dish and put it away, patting Carson on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Next time you can wash it yourself, ok?" he said. "Now, go get dressed so we can head out."

"Ok," Carson muttered, shuffling toward the bedroom glumly.

"Do you need any help, or...?"

"For god's sake, Dad, no!" Carson groaned. "I can dress myself!"

"Ok, ok. Remember, we need to leave within the hour," said Burt.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," grunted Carson, pulling the privacy curtain closed and looking with a smile at the clothes Kurt had laid out for him. There was a note on top of the clean blue hoodie in Kurt's distinctive, loopy handwriting.

_Good luck today, Carsey! I would have skipped work to go with you, but I knew you would resist and drag your feet. Just know that I'll be thinking of you all day. I know you don't want to go (no matter how much you pretend otherwise), and I'm so proud of you for persevering. You're my hero, baby. I'll see you tonight, and I love you so much._

_-Kurtsie xoxoxo_

_P.S.: CALL ME THE SECOND YOU'RE DONE WITH THERAPY! Or else!_

There was an elaborate heart drawn below the words, with two little stick figures holding hands inside underneath a doodle that said "K+C." Carson smiled a huge, genuine smile as he felt his heart swell with love and pride in his brother and boyfriend.

_Ok, Kurtsie. I'll try not to be TOO negative in therapy today. I'm making no promises, but I'll try my best._

He removed his pajamas and carefully began putting on the jeans, T-shirt, and hoodie that Kurt had picked out for him, sighing in frustration as he struggled with the zipper and button on the pants. _Why the fuck do jeans have zippers and shit, anyway? What's wrong with velcro? I say make jeans easy for everyone. Think of all the money the manufacturers would save on stupid fucking metal. _He finally managed to get the pants on, cheering quietly in victory as he put the hoodie on and carefully folded up Kurt's note, placing it into his pocket and patting it for good luck.

"Ok, Dad, I'm ready," he called, coming out of the bedroom and meeting his dad back in the kitchen. "Let's get this crap over with, shall we?"

"Aw, come on, buddy, it won't be that bad," said Burt, sliding the apartment door open for Carson. "And I did promise you ice cream after."

"Yeah...oh, where's my bag with the pills?" asked Carson, looking around frantically as he remembered. "Kurt will kill me if I don't take those with me! I promised him..."

"Relax, Carson, I've got it," said Burt, holding it up for Carson to see. "Trust me, I'm in no hurry to hear what your brother would have to say if we forgot the pills."

Carson smiled, trying to silently tell the panicked feeling in his stomach to subside. "Ok, good. Let's go."

Carson had to admit, physical therapy wasn't nearly as bad as he had made it out to be in his head, even if Allison the therapist was a little too chipper and happy for his liking.

"Good morning, Mr. Hummel!" she practically chirped as he entered the therapy room. "I'm Allison. How are we today?"

"Well, Allison, _we_ aren't really looking forward to this," replied Carson in a monotone. "Because _we_ are getting increasingly sick of _our_ body betraying _us_, and the thought of being reminded of it for a whole hour every week isn't exactly thrilling to _us_, so why don't _we_ just cut the crap and get this over with, hmm? Oh, and call me Carson, for the love of god. "Mr. Hummel" makes me feel like my dad."

Allison blinked at him, her smile never wavering for a second even if it wasn't quite reaching her eyes anymore. "Ok! Well, then, Mr...Carson...why don't we take a few minutes and you can tell me how you've been progressing so far since your accident. And then we can take it from there."

Carson sighed. "Fine. I've been mostly doing ok, except that it takes me twice as long to do most everyday things now because my coordination has gone to shit. This morning I spilled cereal on myself because I couldn't keep a handle on my spoon. And sometimes I have episodes where I can't feel my hands, or they tingle like a bitch and I have to stop everything and just wait for it to subside, and I _really_ fucking hate that, by the way, but I don't say anything because then my brother and my dad will worry and I fucking _hate_ people worrying about me, so I keep it to myself." He crossed his arms as he finished speaking, looking curiously at Allison to see how she would react.

Allison, who had been taking notes the entire time he was talking, looked up from her clipboard and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Well, Carson, I don't know very much about lightning strikes, but I know that you're a very lucky young man to have survived, and that most of the things you just described to me are completely normal. From looking at your medical record, the tingling should become less frequent and stop with time, and the coordination is what you're here for. My job is to help you. Pretty soon you'll be able to do all the things you used to do without any trouble. Ok?"

Carson looked down at his shoes as he traced the pattern on the rug with his foot. "Ok."

The next hour was spent doing various exercises with his hands, and although it was boring as fuck, it wasn't so bad. Carson decided he could live with having to do them every week. He was feeling happy that his hour was almost up, thinking about how he was going to call Kurt and deliver the good news, when Allison handed him a note pad and a pencil.

"Just one more exercise. Can you write something for me?" she asked sweetly. "Anything at all."

Carson glanced at the pad and back to her. "I can write."

Allison nodded. "Yes, I know, but have you tried it since coming home from the hospital?"

Carson swallowed and looked back down at the pad. Now that he thought about it, no. He hadn't tried. _Oh god, I can't even hold a spoon properly! How the fuck am I supposed to hold a pencil well enough to write? What if I can never write again? Oh god, what about SCHOOL? I HAVE to be able to write, I just HAVE to!_ He took a deep breath, trying not to panic too soon until he knew whether or not he had to. He gingerly took the pencil in his hand, his heart sinking as he realized he was having trouble holding it the way he always had. He looked helplessly down at the paper, feeling like a complete dumbass.

"What, um...what do you want me to write?" he asked, his stomach knotting up as he realized that whatever he wrote, it wasn't going to be an easy task.

"Anything you like," Allison replied. "How about your name?"

Carson nodded, taking a deep breath and pressed the pencil to the paper. His hand shook, and he was barely able to grasp the pencil well enough to make it halfway through the letter 'C'. _Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why? Out of everything the lightning already took from me, did it have to take this too?_ He felt like crying, but he resisted the urge. He sure as fuck wasn't going to cry in front of a stranger. Screw that. He tried holding his writing hand with his other hand to hold it steadier, and managed to finish a slightly squiggly looking 'C.'

"I don't want to do this anymore!" he barked, throwing the pencil across the room and crossing his arms as he glared with extreme dislike at the ugly letter he had written. He hated it. It didn't look a goddamn thing like his normal handwriting, and the disappointment and frustration were churning within him. This wasn't fucking fair. Writing was the only thing in his life, besides Kurt, that he really enjoyed. And now what? He couldn't even do that right anymore. He was a complete and utter failure, and he didn't even know why the fuck Kurt should have to put up with him when he was barely even a person anymore.

"Hmmm," murmured Allison, not reacting to the throwing of the pencil as she took the pad gently away. "Ok, so writing is an issue for you right now. I'd like for you to practice it at home for a little while every night, ok? Let's see if we can't at least have you writing your name by your next appointment."

"Whatever," Carson grumbled. "Can I go now?"

Allison sighed and nodded. "Yes, you may. I'll see you next week."

"Joy," Carson muttered in response as he stalked out of the room. He saw his dad waiting out in the lobby and swallowed, wondering if he should say anything about his lost writing ability.

_Better not. He'll probably say something to Kurt, and there's no fucking way that I want Kurt to know about this. I'm already half the boyfriend I was before, I don't want him to know that now I'm even less._

"Hey, kid!" said Burt brightly, getting up from his seat as he spotted Carson. "How did it go?"

"Great," Carson lied. "Just...just great. Can we go get that ice cream now?"

"Sure thing," his dad replied, leading him outside. They walked over to the nearest ice cream parlor, where Burt stood in line to order while Carson sat glumly down at a table and pulled out his phone. He had, after all, promised Kurt that he would call when his therapy appointment was over.

_Ok, Carson, when he answers the phone, you have to be cool. Try to sound happy. You don't want to let on that physical therapy was a complete fucking disaster and that now you have to learn how to write your ABCs all over again like a fucking preschooler. Just act...well, not NORMAL, but...you know._

He took a deep breath and dialed Kurt's number. His twin picked up halfway through the first ring.

"Carsey!" he exclaimed, his voice beaming through the other end of the line like a ray of the brightest sunshine. "How did it go? Tell me everything!"

"Hi, Kurtsie," Carson sad, genuinely smiling at the enthusiasm in his boyfriend's voice. "Um...it went great. I mean, I would rather have been at home in bed watching Youtube videos of guys crushing their balls in skateboarding accidents and writing scatthing comments, but, you know. Therapy was a good second choice."

"Oh, Carsey," said Kurt. "I know you didn't want to go, but it's necessary, you know."

"I know. By the way, I got your note," said Carson, desperate to change the subject. "You're the sweetest."

"Aaaw," said Kurt, and Carson just _knew_ that he was blushing, even if he couldn't see him. "I thought that might put a little smile on your face. Did it work?"

"Like a charm," replied Carson. "How's work?"

"Oh, well. Work is work. Sebastian is here today, "helping" Isabelle and generally being a gigantic pain in my ass," Kurt grumbled, and Carson stifled a giggle. He could just imagine how Kurt had reacted to seeing the other boy when he arrived at work that morning. _I bet he got that cute little frown he gets on his face when he just is NOT amused._

"That sucks," Carson replied. "Tell him if he gives you any grief, I'll kick his ass."

"No, he'll probably like that," said Kurt in a hushed voice. "He keeps asking me if we've ever considered a threesome."

"Ugh, fucking really?" asked Carson. "Tell him to go fuck himself, because there's no way in hell that's ever going to happen, I don't care how hot he thinks it is. Just... no."

"Trust me, he's been informed," said Kurt. "Quite forcefully, I might add. So, what are you doing now?"

"Getting ice cream with Dad, and then I guess we're going to go home," said Carson fiddling with the napkin dispenser absentmindedly as he spoke. "And before you say anything, I have my bag with all the pills, and I know that the alarm on my phone is going to go off in precisely forty-five minutes, so I don't want you worrying about that. Ok? I can even film myself swallowing them, if that makes you feel better."

Kurt snorted. "No, no, that won't be necessary, baby. I trust you. Just... make sure you eat your ice cream slowly, ok? I don't want you getting one of those horrible headaches on the way home."

"I promise," said Carson, smiling to himself. "Are we still on for pizza tonight?"

"Definitely," replied Kurt. "I'm so proud of you for going to your therapy appointment and making it through without injuring or maiming anyone. I'll tell them to just cover the whole thing in pepperoni."

"Mmm," said Carson. "That sounds good, you don't even know."

"Oh, I think I know how much you love pepperoni," said Kurt coyly. "And yes, that was a sexual innuendo."

"Ha!" Carson heard a familiar voice shout in the background. Kurt sighed and let out a groan.

"Great. Sebastian heard that. I'll never hear the end of it for the rest of the day now," he said exasperatedly. Carson snorted.

"Call me when you're on your way home, ok?" he asked. "You're still my Kurtsie, and you know how much I worry about you and your safety on that godforsaken subway."

"I will, baby. I promise. Enjoy your ice cream, ok?" said Kurt, the smile evident in his voice.

"Will do," said Carson. "I'll see you tonight."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Carson hung up the phone just as his dad approached the table with two cups of ice cream, one significantly larger than the other. He set the large one in front of Carson and stuck a spoon in it, giving him a grin.

"I thought you could use all the ice cream you could handle today," he said as he sat down across from him with the smaller cup. "I know therapy isn't your favorite thing in the world."

"How'd you guess?" said Carson, happily twirling the spoon around in his ice cream and gathering up a decent sized spoonful. He carefully lifted the spoon out and guided it to his mouth, praying that he wouldn't spill any on himself. Not here, in public, with a bunch of strangers around who would probably point and laugh at him if that happened. Or at the very least whisper among themselves about the freak in the corner table who couldn't even feed himself. "What a loser," they would say. "Look at him, with chocolate ice cream all over his shirt like some kind of idiot. Why do they even allow him out in public?"

Somehow, he managed not to lose his grip on the spoon and got it to his mouth, closing his eyes at the first taste of chocolate._ I think chocolate probably works better than any fucking physical therapy,_ he thought as he savored the taste in his mouth. _Who needs to write your name like a little kid when you can lose yourself in sugar? _

"Good?" asked his dad, looking at him with an amused smile. Carson nodded.

"Yep. And Kurt is totally going to kill you dead when he finds out you ate ice cream. You're not supposed to. Your heart, you know."

"Hey, it's frozen yogurt!" Burt protested. "It's healthier, or something."

"Hmmm, I don't know," said Carson. "I think we should tell him. Just in case."

"Aw, come on," said Burt. "You'd really rat me out to your brother after all I've done for you?"

"I guess not," said Carson. "Although watching him get pissed would sort of be amusement for me."

Burt defiantly stuck a spoonful of frozen yogurt into his mouth and raised an eyebrow at Carson. "Naw, you won't tell."

"I should, but I won't," said Carson, going back to his own ice cream. It took him a while, but he eventually worked his way through the entire cup, only losing control of the spoon a few times but managing to keep any spillage in the cup or on napkins and not on his clothes, thank fuck.

"You look like you enjoyed that," said Burt, indicating the sea of crumpled napkins on Carson's side of the table. He put up a hand to stop Carson from gathering them up, scooping them up himself and stuffing them into a cup to throw away.

"I did," said Carson, sighing at not being allowed to clean his own mess, but deciding not to argue in public. "Thanks, Dad."

"Any time," replied Burt. "Let's go home now, hmm?"

* * *

Kurt walked happily down the hallway toward the apartment, balancing his bag on one shoulder while holding the hot pizza with both hands. He'd made doubly sure to ask for as much pepperoni as they could spare. Carson deserved everything and anything, especially since Kurt knew good and well that he absolutely hated the idea of physical therapy. Not that his twin had ever said a word about it, but Kurt could just sense it in the way Carson's face and shoulders drooped every time someone brought it up. _Poor baby. At least now he's seen that it's not that bad and it won't kill him to go. And hey...pizza._

He knocked on the door with his foot and heard a clatter of footsteps on the hard floor on the other side, along with Carson's excited voice exclaiming "He's here! Kurtsie's home!" The door was slid open quickly and Kurt was greeted with Carson's smiling face.

"Kurtsie!" he said happily. "You're home! God, I've missed you today, you have no idea." He waited until Kurt had set the pizza box down on the kitchen table before looping his arm through Kurt's and cuddling close to him. "How was the rest of your day? Did Sebastian behave himself?"

"It was fine, and no, not really," Kurt replied with a sigh. "If I have to hear one more joke about how we should move to Philadelphia..."

"Hey, Kurt," said their dad, getting up from the couch and joining them in the kitchen. "Pizza smells good."

"Yes, it does," agreed Kurt. "Did he take his pills today?"

"He did," said Burt, nodding. "He took them right on time, every dose."

"Good," said Kurt.

"Um, hey?" said Carson, waving the arm that wasn't looped through Kurt's. "He's in the room, you know. He's not a statue, or a ghost."

Kurt laughed. "I'm sorry, Carsey, baby. Did you have a good rest of the day after your appointment?"

Carson hesitated slightly, so briefly that Kurt doubted anyone but him would have even noticed, before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, it was...it was great. God, that pizza smells like fucking divinity. Can we eat?"

Kurt smiled, sensing that there was something that Carson wasn't saying, but not wanting to push him. "Of course. Here, I'll get the plates. You and Dad sit down."

"No, kid, I'll get them," protested Burt, placing his hands on Kurt's shoulders and guiding him to a seat. "You've had a long day. Go on and sit with your brother, I'll get us set up."

"Ok. Thanks, Dad," said Kurt as Carson took the seat beside him. He reached for his twin's hand under the table and squeezed gently. "You ok?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," replied Carson, and Kurt could tell he was trying to sound bright. "I just...I missed you today, that's all."

"I missed you too," said Kurt, leaning over to kiss Carson on the cheek. "I wish you could have been there with me today to help me deal with Sebastian. He's insufferable."

"He's amused," replied Carson with a shrug. "I guess I would be, too. As soon as I get my pre-lightning strike coordination back, I will totally punch him in the nuts."

Kurt laughed, opening his mouth to reply, but closing it again when their dad reappeared with plates and three cans of soda. Kurt opened the pizza box and smiled when he saw Carson's face light up like the Fourth of July at the sight of all the pepperoni.

"Holy shit, it's a sausage fest," Carson whispered happily, and Kurt had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting. He could feel himself flushing, and he would _really_ have to work on not doing that anymore, because apparently innuendos were going to be a new part of his life.

"They really went all out," remarked Burt, sitting down and grabbing a slice out of the box, looking at the pile of pepperoni quizzically. "Did they kill a whole pig, or...?"

"I don't know, I'm just grateful for so much spicy, meaty goodness," sighed Carson happily as he carefully lifted a slice to his mouth and took a huge bite. "God, it's so good," he said as he chewed, and Kurt looked at him adoringly. If it were anyone else, he would have found chewing and talking at the same time to be gross and disgusting (because it was). But Carson somehow managed to make it look adorable.

_I must really be in love if I'm overlooking such terrible table manners. What can I say? He's my baby boy._

_Of course, in the future when he's completely recovered from his injuries and we're married and everything, I'll definitely be schooling him on proper food chewing. Not that I think he'll listen to me. My Carsey is stubborn if he's anything._

They finished their dinner and hung out in the living room with their dad for a while, watching TV and just relaxing as Carson curled up with his head in Kurt's lap, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist while Kurt stroked his hair.

"I hate commercials," Carson murmured, burrowing closer to Kurt. "They're so dumb. Why do they always make men out to be helpless morons who can't even clean up a spill without their wife swooping in with her magical paper towels? What, he can't take a roll of towels himself and clean up his own spilled juice? He needs his wife to treat him like a baby? I bet my life if they made commercials like that with the genders reversed, people would be pissed."

Kurt snorted. "Not that I don't agree, but it's just a commercial, Carsey."

"Kid's got a point," piped up Burt from his seat. "I managed to run a household just fine by myself, including cleaning up spills, for many years."

"See?" said Carson. "I rest my case. Commercials are stupid."

Kurt smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "I agree, Carsey," he said quietly. They stayed sitting like that until all three of them started yawning, Carson more than any of them.

"Tired, Carsey?" asked Kurt, stifling his own yawn to focus on his twin.

"Mmm-hmm," replied Carson, his face buried in Kurt's stomach. "Wanna go to bed."

"Ok," said Kurt. "Dad, I think we're going to bed," he said to Burt, who nodded.

"Goodnight, boys. Sleep well," he replied as Kurt stood up, taking Carson by the hand and leading him toward the bedroom.

"Night, Dad," Carson murmured as Kurt led him over to the bed and turned down the covers.

"Hop in, Carsey," he said cheerfully, patting the sheets as Carson climbed up. "I'm just going to go do my face really fast and then I'll join you, ok?"

"Ok," Carson said, burrowing against the pillows. "Hurry, though. I need to cuddle you."

Kurt laughed. "Ok, baby. I will." He tucked Carson into the covers and changed into his pajamas before heading toward the bathroom. He went through his facial routine as fast as possible and then went back into the bedroom, climbing into bed beside Carson and holding his arms out.

"No," said Carson, shaking his head. "No, I...I want to hold _you_ tonight. Please? It's been so long."

Kurt bit his lip and nodded. "Of course, Carsey. Of course you can." He settled himself against Carson's body, resting his head on his chest and listening to the comforting _thump thump_ of his heartbeat against his ear as Carson wrapped his arms around him.

"This is nice," Kurt whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Carson's chest over his T-shirt. "Just like the old days."

"Yeah," agreed Carson, holding him closer. "I've missed this. Holding you. I just... I miss the way things used to be. When I wasn't... well... when I wasn't _this_."

Kurt craned his neck and looked up at Carson, frowning. "There's nothing wrong with you, Carson. Absolutely nothing. The lightning wasn't your fault, and eventually you'll be right back to the way you were. I promise. And I'll be right there to cheer you on."

Carson gave him a small smile and used one hand to stroke at Kurt's hair. "Oh, Kurtsie. So optimistic."

"Of course I am," replied Kurt. "Because it's the truth. We're going to get through this, Carsey. We _will_. You'll see. I don't know when, but at some point in the future, we'll look back on these times and laugh."

"Laugh, huh?" asked Carson.

"Ok, well, maybe we won't laugh, but we'll definitely be able to look back and see how much we survived and overcame together," said Kurt, leaning his face up to kiss Carson on the lips, tapping him gently on the tip of his nose. "No matter what, we always have each other."

"Each other," Carson repeated, kissing him back before Kurt settled himself against him again, using his chest as his pillow and sighing.

"Goodnight, Carsey. I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Kurtsie. Goodnight."

* * *

After what seemed like forever (but which was in actuality only a few more days), the time finally came when Burt announced that he would be going back to Lima.

"Dad, you can't leave!" Kurt had exclaimed. "Who will be there to watch out for Carson when I'm off at work?"

"Kurt, believe me, I'd much rather stay here indefinitely until Carson is fully back on his feet, but I have responsibilities to attend to," their dad had replied. "And I think that he has a good enough handle on himself now to take care of himself while you're gone."

Carson, unlike Kurt, was thrilled at this piece of news. Not that he didn't like having his dad around, but as far as his and Kurt's secret relationship went, having him around was extremely frustrating. Rachel was hardly ever home. If their dad wasn't around, he and Kurt could freely kiss and touch and do whatever else came naturally to them as a couple without having to constantly tiptoe around the possibility of getting caught. Plus, they wouldn't need to be quite so quiet when they had sex, which would be a huge bonus.

"It's fine, Dad," Carson replied happily as Kurt frowned. "Really, I'll be fine during the day. I have a phone and emergency numbers, and I don't plan to go anywhere by myself, so I'll be perfectly fine and safe."

"But-" Kurt protested, but Carson looked at him pointedly.

"Kurtsie, won't it be _fun_ to have the apartment to ourselves again?" asked Carson, stressing the word _fun_ and hoping Kurt would get the point. Kurt raised his eyebrows, which Carson took to mean that he did, in fact, get it. "I mean, besides Trollberry when she's around, of course. No offense, Dad," he added, turning to Burt and smiling sheepishly.

"None taken," their dad replied, smiling. "See, Kurt? He'll be ok. Besides, he'll be going off to college soon and he'll have to fend for himself then."

"Yeah, Kurt," agreed Carson. "Come on, I'm a big boy. Let Dad go."

Kurt sighed. "Fine. Ok. I guess I can always ask Rachel to take you to your physical therapy appointments..."

Carson shuddered at the very thought of this, but decided not to voice his displeasure with it right now. He'd save that for later. "Yeah, whatever. Dad, go ahead and do what you have to do, ok? We'll both be just fine."

So that was how Carson found himself being hugged goodbye by his father at the airport one morning and then watching with his arm around Kurt as Burt waved at them and left to board the plane.

"Call if you need anything, boys!" he called.

"We will," Kurt replied.

"So," said Carson once their dad was out of sight and they were left alone (relatively speaking, of course, since they were still in the middle of a crowded airport). "Trollberry isn't home for the rest of the day. Do you know what that means?"

"Empty apartment," said Kurt.

"Yep. And do you know what an empty apartment means?" prodded Carson.

"We can vacuum naked?" suggested Kurt in a teasing tone of voice.

"Well, yeah, that, and we can do _other_ things naked," replied Carson in a low voice, rubbing his fingers softly on Kurt's shoulder.

"Hmmm," said Kurt. "Yes. Yes, we could. Do you...do you want to go home now, by chance?"

"Kurtsie, I thought you would never ask."

* * *

They stumbled into the apartment, way too worked up from the tension-filled ride home to bother being graceful as they held tightly onto one another and Kurt kicked the door shut with his foot. He found himself being pressed up against it almost immediately as Carson ambushed his lips, sucking on them greedily and moaning into Kurt's mouth as his hands roamed everywhere they could reach. Kurt's hands were doing the exact same thing, his fingers hooking into the hem of Carson's T-shirt and yanking it up with little regard for being careful or gentle. Frankly, he was much too turned on at the moment to give much of a damn. He ran his fingers down the silky skin of Carson's back and gasped as Carson lowered his head to suck eagerly at the sensitive spot below Kurt's ear that always drove him wild.

"Carsey," he moaned loudly, relishing the fact that he didn't need to be quiet. There was nobody home. Not a soul to disturb them as they pawed frantically at each other. Kurt's brain was in a fog and the only thought that was forming coherently was _More. God, more. _ He fumbled clumsily with the button of Carson's jeans, panting as Carson continued sucking at his neck like some kind of deranged, thirsty vampire. Not that he was complaining. No, quite the opposite. He finally managed to undo the pants and tug them down, leaving Carson clad only in his tight boxer briefs that were currently tenting quite impressively. Kurt snaked one hand between them to cup Carson's straining erection and rub at him teasingly through the fabric of his underwear, and Carson stopped working on Kurt's neck to bury his face in it and moan.

"Kuuuuurt," he moaned, thrusting his hips against the pressure of Kurt's hand. His own hands pawed desperately at Kurt's body, running over him through the fabric of his clothes as he groaned in frustration. "K-Kurtsie... _oh god_...Kurtsie, baby, please... I... too many layers... I just... I.. _oh_... I love them, you know I do, but please, could you..."

Kurt kissed him into silence and gave Carson's dick a last, teasing squeeze before separating from him and quickly working the buttons of his shirts and pants. Carson wasn't good at removing his admittedly complicated clothes during the best of times, much less when he had trouble using his fingers. He quickly shucked off everything, leaving himself completely naked, and Carson moaned when he saw that Kurt hadn't been wearing anything underneath his tight pants.

"You didn't wear..."

"Honey, I barely have room for my dick in those pants, much less anything else," replied Kurt, wrapping his hand around the back of Carson's head and pulling him in for a rough kiss. He kissed him hungrily, nibbling at Carson's bottom lip as he pressed his tongue inside his twin's mouth. Carson brought both hands up to hold Kurt's head in place and continued kissing him back as he began walking them backwards in what Kurt assumed he meant to be the direction of the bedroom, but which ended up being the kitchen. He stopped when his back collided with the table, and he leaned backwards, pulling Kurt on top of him and breaking from the kiss to nibble gently at Kurt's earlobe as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

"I want you so bad," he whispered, thrusting his clothed erection up against Kurt's naked one, and Kurt let out a delighted moan as he let his fingers wander down Carson's sides, stopping at the waistband of his underwear.

"Right here, Carsey?" he asked, his fingers dipping teasingly inside the waistband just enough to cause Carson to shiver. "Right here on the table?" _In the kitchen, Kurt? Really? Where we EAT_? his mind protested, but Kurt silently told his mind to shut the hell up, because he was beyond caring right now where they were. All he knew was that he wanted Carson, and he wanted him yesterday.

"Please," Carson squeaked out, and Kurt kissed him, covering his boyfriend's mouth with his own as he pulled the offending underwear down and off, tossing them who cared where. He caught Carson's erection and his own in one fist and began slowly stroking, shivering in pleasure as he watched Carson's face beneath him.

"Kurt, I want you in me," Carson begged, thrusting his hips up into Kurt's hand and biting his lip. "Please, just...please."

"Ok. Ok, baby," Kurt said soothingly, letting go of their dicks and kissing Carson on the lips once more. "I just... we don't have any lube or condoms here, honey. I'll be right back."

"I don't care!" Carson whined, holding onto Kurt tighter to keep him from leaving. "We don't need that stuff, just... please..."

"Carson, yes we do," Kurt insisted, gently prying himself loose from Carson's grip and patting him on the arm reassuringly. "You go without lube and you won't be walking normally for weeks. I'll just be a second, ok?"

"Just... can you just bring back the lube?" asked Carson in a small voice, biting his lip and looking nervous. "I mean, if... oh god, I know we should discuss it first, but I... I mean, if it's ok with you... could we not use the condom?"

Kurt gaped at him, trying to decide if he'd really just heard what he thought he'd heard. "Carson, I... baby, I would love that, I really would, but are you sure? I mean..."

Carson nodded. "I'm sure, Kurt. I mean, you're the only one I've ever been with, so... and you're clean, right?"

Kurt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am, actually. I... well, before we had sex for the first time I went into work late one day in order to go to a clinic first. Just to be sure, you know, that... I mean, after Blaine cheated and everything I just wanted to be sure. For you."

"And?" asked Carson.

"And I'm clean as a whistle," replied Kurt with a smile. "I just... it never came up, and then the lightning happened, so..."

Carson nodded, smiling wide. "Just the lube, then."

"Just the lube," Kurt repeated, kissing Carson and hurrying into the bedroom to retrieve the small bottle from his bedside table. He practically flew back to Carson, and almost came right on the spot when he saw that Carson had leaned over the table, bending over and propping his arms up on it as he faced away from Kurt.

"Like this," he said. "I... I want you like this."

Kurt bit back a wall-shaking moan as he crossed over to his twin and covered his body with his own, peppering Carson's back with little kisses before trailing the length of his spine with his tongue as Carson shivered beneath him. He popped open the cap of the bottle and lubed up his fingers. He teased them around Carson's entrance for a few seconds before pressing one in, slowly working Carson open while continuing to kiss his back.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as Carson panted. "You can moan, honey. It's ok. Nobody will hear you. I want to hear you, baby."

"I... _fuck, Kurt!_" Carson moaned as Kurt added a second finger and crooked them both upwards to find his prostate. "Kurt, hrrngh... oh god..."

"That's right, sweetheart. Tell me how much you like it," Kurt crooned, slowly working his way up to three fingers and watching in fascination as Carson became a whimpering, shaking mess, pressing back on his fingers desperately.

"Kurtsie, come on... please... " he cried. "I'm ready, I'm ready, just... I want you now."

Kurt obliged, removing his fingers and grabbing the lube bottle.

"Could... could you not use too much?" asked Carson. "I want to really feel you, so... just enough to make it easy, ok?"

"God, Carson," Kurt breathed, lubing his dick up with far less lube than he was used to and rubbing some along Carson's rim, just in case. He lined himself up and kissed between his boyfriend's shoulder blades softly. "You're ready?"

"Yes," replied Carson, and with that, Kurt began pushing himself in, taking his time and letting Carson adjust to the intrusion every few inches before adding more. He had to stop and catch his breath for a second once he was fully sheathed inside of Carson's tight heat. It was the closest thing to heaven he thought he'd ever experience, and it was overwhelming. He wrapped one arm around Carson's chest to keep him steady, placing the other one on his twin's thigh. "Let me know when you want me to move," he said, hoping he could wait that long. The urge to just start moving was dizzying.

"Move, move!" Carson moaned, pushing back on Kurt's length and causing Kurt to lose his breath for a second. "God, move!"

Kurt slowly pulled out and then rammed back in, his skin slapping against Carson's from the impact. Carson let out a wail and reached one of his arms back to stroke Kurt's hair.

"Yes... like that, harder... _oh god_," he moaned as Kurt dragged out and entered again, harder and faster this time. "Keep going... Kurtsie... fuck..."

Kurt threw all caution to the wind and let loose, beginning to fuck into Carson wildly, an almost animalistic urge overtaking him as he pounded into his twin's body. Carson was moaning and screaming beneath him, and fucking himself back on Kurt's dick, and Kurt's brain began to cloud over as all he could focus on was the sounds of moaning and skin slapping together and heavy breathing. He leaned down to suck a kiss into the side of Carson's neck, and before he knew what was happening, Carson was coming, completely untouched, all over the side of the table.

"Kuuuuuurt, fuuuuck," he whined, and his muscles contracted deliciously around Kurt, causing him to fast approach his own climax as he continued fucking Carson into the table.

"So beautiful," Kurt grunted as he felt himself getting closer. "God, Carson, I just...I love you," he said as he finally reached his peak, coming hard inside of Carson before slumping against his back, panting and utterly exhausted. Carson's hand came up again to stroke at his hair, his head looking back as he took huge breaths underneath the weight of Kurt's body. Kurt kissed him lazily, wrapping both of his arms around Carson's chest and holding him close.

"Fuck," he whispered, kissing the back of Carson's neck. "Carsey..."

"I know," said Carson. "I... ok, we're never using condoms again."

"Well, not _all _the time, anyway," said Kurt, slowly pulling out of his boyfriend and moaning at the sight of his own come spilling out of him. "God, Carson, you have no idea how sexy this is... we should shower, though. And clean all this up, because_...god..."_

"Think we could go for round two in there?" asked Carson as he turned to face Kurt, a blissful, satisfied smile on his face.

"I think that could be arranged," said Kurt with a grin. "Maybe I'll even clean you up with my tongue."

"Kurt, _fuck_!"

* * *

Unfortunately for Carson, their father leaving to go back to Lima meant more than just uninhibited sexual encounters all over the apartment (literally, _all_ over the apartment... while they still had it to themselves they christened the couch, the bathroom sink, the shower, and the floor... in several spots. Kurt had insisted on condoms, though, since he insisted that he did _not_ want to spend a whole night cleaning come up off various surfaces). It also meant that Kurt still wanted _somebody_ around to be a safety net for Carson while he was away at work, and now that Burt was gone, that somebody was Rachel.

"Kuuuurt, you can't just leave me here with her!" Carson whined on the first day that his twin insisted on this arrangement. "She's annoying!"

"Kuuuurt, you can't just leave me here with him!" Rachel whined, sounding even more desperate to not have any part of this than Carson was. "He's such a-"

"Rachel, watch it," Kurt snapped, and Carson smirked at the shocked look on Rachel's face. "He is still recovering from a massive brain injury, and you will treat him nicely."

"I don't want to be stuck here with her all day," Carson complained. "Can't I go with you?"

"Why does he need a babysitter, anyway?" Rachel mumbled, crossing her arms grumpily. "He's a grown man."

"Rachel, he's a grown man who almost _died_, and I'm sorry, but I just don't feel comfortable leaving him here alone," said Kurt. "And I said I would cover your half of the rent in exchange, so just shut up and listen."

"_Fine_," Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

"Ok," said Kurt. "Now, I know Carson has a list of all the emergency numbers stored with his pills, but I've also left one for you in the kitchen on the fridge, juuust in case. You need to make sure he eats, and also that he takes his pills on time-"

"I do _not_ need Trollberry to remind me to take my pills," Carson interrupted, frowning as he slumped in his chair at the kitchen table, trying not to think too much about what he and Kurt had done on it not two days before. "I'm fully capable of doing that myself, thank you."

"Carsey, I know, but I just... I would feel a lot better knowing that someone is here with you, ok?" said Kurt in a soft tone, smiling at Carson sympathetically. Carson grumbled in response, but nodded. If it made Kurt feel better, he supposed he could suffer for love.

"Good. That's my boy. Now, Rachel, I know that you don't exactly get along with Carson, but just... just make sure he eats and takes his pills and then you both can just leave each other alone the rest of the day. And it's morning, so he's going to be a little grumpy, so just... Carson, do you think you can keep the insults to a bare minimum?"

"I promise nothing," said Carson. Rachel rolled her eyes. Kurt sighed.

"Whatever. Rachel, just make sure he doesn't burn the building down and that he's still alive by the time I get home from work. Ok?" asked Kurt.

"Wait...burn the... is he dangerous?" asked Rachel in a whisper to Kurt. "Now that he's had his injury?"

"I might be," replied Carson, giving Rachel an evil smile as she looked uncertainly in his direction. Maybe being left alone all day with Trollberry wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Oh for god's sake," said Kurt with an eye roll. He gave Carson a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Be good, Carsey. Please?" he whispered in his ear, and Carson nodded.

"I'll try," he said, flashing Rachel another mischievous smile behind Kurt's back. Rachel looked terrified.

"Call me if anyone dies," Kurt called out cheerfully as he slid the apartment door open and left, closing it with a slam behind him. Rachel and Carson looked each other over warily for a few seconds, as though sizing each other up for battle.

"Well, Trollberry, it's just you and me," said Carson sweetly. "You're not happy about it, and I'm not happy about it, but it's the way things are. And as my official appointed babysitter, you may as well earn the title. So... I require a bowl of cereal. You know where the bowls are."

Rachel glared at him. "I didn't hear the magic word."

"Oh. My apologies," said Carson. "Lucky Charms."

"Those are _not_ the magic words," mumbled Rachel.

"How about "I'll tell Kurt you yanked my arm forcefully?" Are those magical?" asked Carson, enjoying the increasingly irritated look on Rachel's face. "Because I'm pretty sure he won't be very happy with you."

"He wouldn't believe you," replied Rachel.

"Oh no? _Kuuurt, look at my arm_," Carson exclaimed in a mock sad voice. "_Trollberry got mad at me and grabbed it hard, and look, there's a bruise and everything!"_ He finished off with a pout, and Rachel sighed heavily.

"You are the worst kind of person," she grumbled exasperatedly. Carson grinned.

"I know," he said. "Now _please_ get me my cereal?" Rachel rolled her eyes and did so, and Carson concentrated on his plan for the day. Contrary to what it looked like, he wasn't out to torture Rachel all day, although that would have been fun. He actually was going to spend the day writing his name. Or trying to, anyway. He had tried all afternoon on the day of his first therapy session, and hadn't had any luck, which was frustrating as shit. He had hidden the papers containing his failed attempts underneath one of his hoodies in the closet instead of throwing them away, because he hadn't wanted Kurt to know what a failure he was.

Today would be different. Today, he decided, as he carefully ate his cereal and ignored Rachel, he would write his name if it fucking killed him. He finished eating, leaving the bowl for Rachel to take care of, and headed for the bedroom, shutting the privacy curtain closed and pulling out the notepad and ballpoint pen he had hidden underneath the bed. He climbed up on the bed, grasped the pen as best he could, and pressed it to the paper.

_C...A...fuck_

He sighed in frustration as his hand refused to cooperate anymore. He didn't understand it. He had almost mastered the use of most other everyday objects, such as silverware. What the fuck was so hard about a writing utensil? _If I can't even write my own name all the way through, how in the fucking hell am I going to get through college?_

He shook himself and pressed the pen to the paper again.

_C...A...R...S...FUCK!_

He tore the paper out of the notebook and balled it up angrily, throwing it as hard as he could against the wall. It bounced lamely and fluttered to the floor as Carson took a deep breath to calm himself down. Determined not to give up, he pulled up a fresh sheet of paper and tried again. And again. And again. He tried for almost two hours, growing increasingly more angry with every failed attempt. He hated paper. He hated pens. He hated fucking rain and lightning, he hated that he was slowly regaining his memory of that night piece by piece, but all he remembered clearly were things that he couldn't make sense out of. A Monopoly game. Kissing Kurt on the floor. He hated that he was broken now. He hated fucking everything.

_I fucking hate you_, he thought, glaring down at the paper. _I hate you most of all._

He didn't know whether he was talking to the paper or to himself.


	30. Chapter 30

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, guys! We're slowly getting back to our original publishing schedule of Sundays, I promise. Thank you for bearing with us, and for leaving us such awesome reviews! We love you ^_^ And now, let's read the new chapter (Number 30, oh my GOD)**

As frustrated as Carson was about his utter inability to write like a normal human being, he somehow managed to get his emotions under control. He had to, for Kurt's sake. He didn't want Kurt coming home to find him angry and sullen. Kurt worked hard all day, he didn't need to deal with Carson and his stupid feelings at the end of the day. He deserved better than that. _He deserves better than me. Someone who can spoil him and treat him like a prince. Not someone who wasn't able to take him out and show him off, even when I wasn't half a human. Now I'm just a useless piece of shit, and I don't know why he puts up with me._

Carson sighed and gathered up the violently discarded pieces of paper, stuffing them in the corner of a closet shelf with his previous attempts and stowing the notepad back beneath the bed. He stayed in bed for most of the rest of the day, only venturing out to the kitchen to take his pills and eat something for lunch. He really wasn't very hungry, but he knew that Kurt would worry and fuss over him if Rachel told him that he hadn't eaten, so he made sure that she saw him eat a cup of ramen noodles.

"Those things are terrible for your health," she said haughtily from her seat at the table, where she was going through a giant pile of sheet music. _Trying to pick out a song to butcher and offend the ears of everybody with, I'm sure_, he thought.

"I don't really give a shit about my health," he replied, noisily slurping a noodle into his mouth. Rachel made a face at him and went back to her music.

By the time Kurt came home from work, Carson had mostly put his failed attempts at writing out of his mind and was more than ready to just forget his extremely shitty life and bask in the radiance that was his boyfriend. Carson may not have deserved it, but Kurt was the one bright spot in the middle of his misery, and he was determined to enjoy it for as long as pure dumb luck saw fit to let him have it.

"Hi, Carsey," said Kurt cheerfully, a smile on his face as his gorgeous eyes landed on Carson coming out of the bedroom. "I missed you today, sweetie. How was your day?"

Carson wanted to be able to tell him the truth. He wanted to be able to sigh heavily and look into Kurt's eyes and say "_It was horrible, Kurtsie. I can't even do things that toddlers can do, and you're the most perfect man in the world, and you deserve someone who can at least write their own name, so why do you even bother with me?"_

Of course, he _couldn't_ say those things. Not now. Not ever. Not to Kurt. He had to at least pretend to be strong for him, if he did nothing else.

"It was ok," he lied, letting Kurt wrap his arms around him in a loving hug. He sagged against Kurt's body and breathed in, savoring the comforting scent of Kurt's cologne mixed with the soap he had used that morning and something that smelled vaguely like coffee. It smelled heavenly.

"Just ok?" asked Kurt, softly rubbing circles into Carson's back.

"Well, it would have been better, except that Trollberry locked me in the bathroom all day long with just a slice of bread and a cup of water," said Carson.

"Liar," Rachel muttered from the couch.

"She said if I told anyone, she would beat me with one of her ridiculous stiletto heels," Carson continued, beginning to enjoy himself a little bit. He put his best pout on his face and looked at Kurt with wounded eyes. "She said she would make it look like an accident."

"You're such an ass," said Rachel with a roll of her eyes.

"Rachel!" Kurt admonished her. "Don't you talk to him like that."

"I'll have you know I did _not_ say anything of the kind to him," Rachel said. "He spent the whole day in your room."

"Did you make sure he took his pills?" Kurt asked sharply.

"She hid them from me," Carson piped up.

"_Yes_, he took them," answered Rachel, glaring at Carson.

"She threw them at me and made me catch them in my mouth like popcorn pieces," said Carson, not missing a beat.

"I'm so done," said Rachel with a sigh. "I'm going out. You two have fun." She grabbed her coat and practically flew out of the apartment, leaving the twins alone, much to Carson's relief. He seized the opportunity to catch Kurt's lips in a deep kiss, lingering to savor the taste of his twin's lip balm on his tongue.

"How was your day _really_?" Kurt prodded, looking Carson in the eye as they parted from their kiss. Carson sighed and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder.

"Long. Boring. I missed you," he answered quietly.

"How badly did you torture Rachel, on a scale of one to ten?" asked Kurt.

"Two and a half. But there's always tomorrow," replied Carson.

"That's my boy," said Kurt, and Carson could hear the amusement in his voice. "What do you want to do for dinner? We can order whatever you want."

Carson shrugged. He didn't really care what they had for dinner. In fact, he had the strangest feeling that he would be perfectly fine with never eating again. "I dunno. Chinese?"

"Sounds good to me," said Kurt, kissing him on the top of his head and squeezing him close. "I'll call the place down the street that doesn't have mice in the kitchen and running around the dining area. Have you taken your afternoon dose yet?"

"Yeah," answered Carson, nodding. _Not that it does a fucking lot of good. I'm still just as useless as ever, and the headaches don't stop. They never fucking stop._

_I hate everything about myself._

* * *

By the next morning, Carson was in slightly better spirits, but only just. He decided that he wasn't going to even try to write anything today. The frustration and disappointment when he inevitably couldn't do it was just too much for him to take, and he didn't want to go through another day of that. He didn't have it in him. He made up his mind that he would distract himself with other things for the hours that Kurt was at work. Maybe he would take advantage of Kurt's Netflix subscription, even though most television shows irritated him unless he was watching something for Kurt (and even then, he was seldom able to keep his sarcastic comments to himself).

Or maybe he could just torture Rachel. That could be fun.

"Ok, Carson, here we go," said Kurt, snapping Carson out of his thoughts. He hadn't had the energy or the desire to get up out of bed when Kurt had to wake up, so Kurt had gotten himself ready and then, apparently, made Carson waffles for breakfast, which he was currently carrying on a tray into the bedroom, along with juice and Carson's pill bottles.

"Oh, Kurtsie," said Carson with a smile as he took in the sight of the carefully arranged items on the tray. "This is beautiful, baby. Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," replied Kurt cheerfully, leaning down to kiss Carson quickly on the lips as he placed the tray in his lap. "I didn't think you felt much like going into the kitchen to eat this morning, and I didn't want you to starve. Are you _sure_ you'll be ok while I'm gone?"

"Kurtsie, I'll be fine," Carson assured him. "Really."

"Ok, ok," said Kurt, reaching out a hand to stroke Carson's cheek tenderly. "I keep my phone on all day, so if you need _anything_, I want you to call me, ok?"

"Ok."

"And try not to send Rachel running from the apartment in tears, hmm?" Kurt continued.

"I make no promises," Carson deadpanned.

"Ok. Well, I'll see you tonight," said Kurt, leaning down to hug Carson. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Carson, watching Kurt as he turned around and left, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind him.

_I really do love you, Kurtsie, I just don't understand why you love ME_, Carson thought with a sigh as he picked up his fork and speared a bit of waffle onto it. He chewed it mechanically as he listened to Kurt give Rachel the same speech he had given her the day before about making sure Carson took his pills, and then he heard the door open and close as Kurt left for work, leaving him and Rachel alone. He took another bite, and then another, eventually realizing with a heavy sigh that while the waffles were delicious, he wasn't really enjoying eating them. In fact, he was mostly just eating at all because he knew he had to, or else Kurt would worry about him and his disappearing appetite. He might even make him go to the doctor, and Carson was determined not to have to do _that_ any more than was absolutely necessary.

So, down the hatch went the waffles. He stared blankly at his empty plate when he was through, contemplating what he should do next since he had hours and hours ahead of him with no Kurt. He had just decided to get out the laptop and see what he could find on Netflix when the privacy curtain opened and Rachel stepped cautiously inside the room, looking as though she would rather be having throat surgery than dealing with Carson right now.

"Are, um... are you done with that?" she asked warily, indicating the empty waffle plate.

"No, actually I've been in here practicing magic tricks, and my latest one was making all the food disappear off the plate," answered Carson dryly. "As you can see, I'm in the process of trying to make it reappear. Which shouldn't be too hard, since you have the uncanny tendency to make me gag."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "So I take that as a yes, then," she replied, taking the juice glass and the pill bottles off the tray and setting them on the nightstand beside Carson before taking the tray itself in her hands.

"You're an intuitive one," muttered Carson, reaching clumsily into the nightstand drawer for his laptop. "Now that you've put in your daily quota of pretending to give a shit, you're free to go practice making balloon animals, or whatever they teach you at the clown school you get your makeup from." He carefully wrapped his hands around the laptop and lifted it out, trying not to drop it in the process.

"Do you need help?" asked Rachel with a sigh.

"_No_," Carson snapped quickly, finally succeeding in getting the computer out of the drawer and into his lap. "I'm fine." _And the last fucking thing I need is Trollberry's sympathy. Shit._

"Whatever," said Rachel, stalking out of the room with the tray and yanking the privacy curtain closed on her way out. Carson rolled his eyes and opened the laptop, hoping he could at least find something to watch that didn't completely suck.

_Let's see... no... no... no... no... ugh, whatever. Fuck this. I'll just sit here and look at the ceiling. It will probably be more interesting than any of this shit._

He closed the laptop and shoved it aside, crossing his arms across his chest and settling back against the pillows, his eyes trained up at the ceiling as he sighed heavily. He wondered if this was going to be his life from now on if he never returned to normal. He could picture himself laying around in bed all day, every day, doing nothing and going nowhere, constantly waiting for Kurt to come home and feeling like a gigantic burden on him. He imagined Kurt forever looking for new babysitters as Carson scared away the old ones. He imagined going through life being a pain in the ass to everybody, someone that people only tolerated because they felt sorry for him. He felt a dull pain in his stomach at the thought.

_Fuck my life_, he thought bitterly. As if to rub salt in his wounds, he heard Rachel begin practicing her scales at precisely that moment, and he frowned, holding his hands over his ears to escape the dreadful sound. _Goddamn, she sounds like an angry cat in heat. This can't go on. I'm gonna go tell her to shut up._ He carefully got out of bed, taking his pills with the rest of his juice before shuffling out into the living room and flopping down on the couch, arms crossed and frown in place.

"Can I help you?" asked Rachel, sighing as she stopped singing.

"Actually, yes. You can stop that god awful racket," said Carson. "I can barely hear myself think over the sound of you stabbing sea lions in the heart out here. Oh no, wait, that's just your singing."

Rachel glared at him. "Might I suggest earplugs if it bothers you?" she asked in a syrupy sweet tone of voice laced with sarcasm. "It's very important for me to practice every day to maintain the quality of my voice, you know."

"Well, I'm sick and it's annoying me," retorted Carson. "You shouldn't annoy a sick person."

"Deal with it," said Rachel with a shrug, returning to practicing with a pretty impressive "fuck you" smile thrown in Carson's direction. Carson rolled his eyes and stalked back to the bedroom, climbing back into bed and pulling the covers over himself. Eventually he must have fallen back asleep to escape the noise, because the next thing he knew, he was being gently shaken awake by Kurt.

"Carson," Kurt whispered, his hands on Carson's shoulder. "Carsey, baby... wake up, sweetheart."

"What time is it?" asked Carson groggily through a yawn.

"It's almost six, honey," answered Kurt. "I'm sorry I didn't call today. It was a pretty busy day at the office. How long have you been asleep?"

"I don't know," Carson murmured. "All day, I guess. Ugh, my head hurts." It did. He could feel the dull ache already spreading in the middle of his forehead.

"All _day_?" asked Kurt, horrified. "Did you take your pills on time?"

"I... I took them this morning," said Carson quietly, suddenly feeling guilty. He couldn't remember if he had kept his phone ringer on or if he had slept through the alarms.

"Ugh, I ask Rachel to do _one _thing for me and she can't even do that," Kurt muttered angrily. "She should have woken you up if you were sleeping through the alarms."

"You should yell at her," suggested Carson hopefully. "I've been so bored, and it would amuse me."

Kurt smiled. "I would, baby, but she's gone out again. I'll definitely be giving her a piece of my mind when she gets home, though," he added with a scowl. "She's supposed to look after you when I can't." He took Carson's pill bottles and shook out the correct dosage of each, handing them to Carson. "Here, sweetie, take these. I'll get you some water, and then we're going to get some food in you, since I'm assuming that you haven't eaten since breakfast, either."

Carson shook his head. "Nope."

"What do you feel like eating?"

Carson shrugged. "I don't know."

And it scared him just a little bit that he didn't really care.

* * *

The next day was the worst day of Carson's week, by far. Not only was he stuck with Rachel again, but he also had another physical therapy appointment at the hospital, and he wasn't sure which was worse, the fact that he had to go at all, or that Rachel had to be the one to take him there. Kurt had asked Carson at least a million times that morning if he was _sure_ he didn't want him to stay home from work and take him to therapy himself, but Carson vehemently dismissed the very idea.

"Kurt, I don't want you to feel like you have to put everything on hold for me," Carson insisted. "I survived the last time, and I'll survive again."

"Yeah, but you were with Dad last time," Kurt pointed out. "Are you sure you're ok with Rachel taking you?"

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, it's a bonus because I know for a fact that she would rather do almost anything _but_ take me to therapy," replied Carson with a nonchalant shrug. "And when Trollberry suffers, I smile."

"Well," Kurt said, biting his lip uncertainly.

"Kurt. I'll be _fine_," said Carson, kissing him lightly on the lips. "I promise. Now go, before I push you out."

"You're too much," said Kurt with a smile, giving him a hug. "Call me when therapy is over, ok?"

"I will," Carson promised. "And tell Sebastian if he suggests a threesome again, I'll fix it so that he has no genitals anymore to have threesomes with."

So although he would rather have been driving pins into his nails, Carson put on a brave face and set out with Rachel later that morning for the hospital. He looked warily at the sky when they got outside, not liking one bit how dark and overcast it looked.

"Is... is it supposed to rain today?" he asked Rachel, trying not to let on just how much the very idea of it made his stomach churn. Rachel sighed.

"I don't know," she said impatiently. "I guess, maybe? Will you come on? You're going to be late for your appointment, and then Kurt will bitch at me like he did last night about your pills. Let's go."

"Do you have an umbrella?" asked Carson, wondering even as he asked the question what good an umbrella would do them in the event of lightning, but he supposed every bit of protection was helpful.

"_Yes_, now come on!" said Rachel impatiently, and Carson nodded, hesitantly stepping all the way outside. He was nervous the entire way to the hospital, constantly looking at the clouds to determine if they had gotten any darker. They didn't seem to have, but the uneasy feeling stirring deep in his stomach wouldn't go away. It wouldn't, not until the sun was completely shining again.

His nervousness wasn't helped in the slightest by his physical therapy session, which went pretty much just the same way it had the last time, complete with Allison setting a notepad and a pencil in front of him toward the end of the hour.

"Have you been practicing at home?" she asked gently. Carson nodded, looking with disdain at the notebook.

"Yes," he answered her glumly. "And I'm still just as shitty at it as I was the last time I was here. Do I really need to do this again?"

Allison nodded. "I know you don't like it, sweetie, but if you've been practicing then surely you've improved, even just a little. We won't know until we try, hmm?"

"Again with the _we_," Carson mumbled crankily, taking the pencil into his hand as best he could. "I'll remind you again that it's not _us_ going through this shit, it's _me_. Everyone who pretends to have a clue what this is like for _me _can just shut the hell up, ok?" He took a deep breath and pressed the pencil to the paper, making it halfway through a shaky looking "_CAR_" before throwing the pencil down onto the table in frustration.

"You see? I still can't do it!" he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. Allison looked at him carefully and sat back into her chair across from him, folding her hands over her lap.

"Do you think that maybe the reason you can't do it is because you _believe_ you can't?" she asked thoughtfully. "Perhaps if you tried to have a little more confidence in yourself, you could do better. You're already doing better than last time," she pointed out. Carson frowned.

"Let's give it one more try, ok?" she prodded. Carson sighed and nodded, picking up the pencil and taking a deep breath before beginning to write.

_I can do this_, he chanted to himself. _I can do it, I can do it, I can do it. There is nothing wrong with me. I can write my name just like I always have._ He concentrated all his efforts into shaping the letters of his name, and, to his astonishment, he actually was able to write almost his whole name, only stumbling over the _N_ at the end.

"You see?" said Allison with a smile. Carson felt a swell of pride in his chest, which quickly dissipated as he took a good look at his work and realized just how terrible and childish his handwriting looked. It looked awful. It was all shaky and ugly, and he wanted to cry just thinking about the possibility that even if he managed to write again, his handwriting might never be the same.

"Can I go now?" he asked, glancing at the clock and realizing with relieved joy that his time was up. "I'd hate to make the next patient late for their appointment."

Allison nodded and waved in the direction of the door. "I'll see you next time, Carson. Remember, have confidence! And keep practicing."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Carson muttered under his breath as he walked out into the waiting area. "Time's up, Trollberry," he said to Rachel, who was sitting in a chair with a copy of _People_ magazine in her hand, looking bored out of her mind. "Let's go home."

"How did it go?" Rachel asked, not sounding as if she particularly cared. Carson shrugged.

"Medicine is a sham. All of it," he answered as they made their way out of the hospital. To his horror, the sky had gotten significantly darker since they had arrived, and it looked like rain was definitely in the cards in the very near future. "Let's hurry. I... I want to get home before it rains," he said quietly, the nervous feeling in his stomach, which had been laying somewhat dormant during his therapy session, rising back up with a vengeance. He did _not_ want to be outside when the rain started to come down. He might actually have a heart attack.

Luckily, they got back to the apartment just as the rain started to fall, pounding relentlessly against the windows as Carson practically sprinted for the bedroom. He clumsily undressed and put his pajamas back on before diving into the bed, pulling the covers protectively around himself and trying not to panic too much as the sound of the falling rain kept splattering against the glass of the window. _It's just rain, Carson, stop being a fucking baby. It's just rain and that's all. It's outside. You're inside. You're not out in it like a dumbass, like you were that night. You'll be perfectly fine as long as you stay here, inside the apartment, in the bed, under the covers. Pretend Kurt is with you. Kurt makes you happy, right? He calms you down. _He grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to himself the way he would normally hug Kurt when they were in bed together, trying to control his breathing, which had gotten very fast and very ragged in his panic over the stupid rain. _This pillow is Kurt. This is Kurt until you can have the real Kurt later tonight, ok? Now, calm the fuck down. The lightning is in the past and it can't hurt you again. Not if you don't let it. You can't even remember being hit, so just..._ He closed his eyes as he hugged the pillow, turning over every piece of memory he had uncovered so far from that lost day. What little he could remember made almost no sense, and he wasn't able to string it together even remotely coherently. He heard a knock on the apartment door and Rachel's footsteps going to answer it.

"Fed-Ex!" called a voice from the other side, and Carson tuned out, a nagging feeling in the back of his brain. There was something familiar about this... had there been a knock on the door the night of the accident? He tried to remember. He knew he had been kissing Kurt on the bed, and then...

Yes, there definitely had been a knock. He was sure of it, but he couldn't remember anything else, much to his frustration. _Yay, me. More memories. Ugh, can the rain just fucking STOP already? I can't take much more of this._He really couldn't. His stomach was churning so much, and he couldn't breathe, and he felt as though the walls of the bedroom were closing in on him, ready to crush him like a bug. It was the fucking rain. If the rain would just stop...

_Please... please stop. It hurts._

It rained for what felt like forever, and Carson just kept to the fetal position under the covers, riding it out as best as he could and trying his best not to scream. He was never so relieved in his life as when the pounding raindrops finally slowed to a light drizzle and then eventually stopped altogether, leaving him a panting, shaking mess. _And I didn't even get like this in the fun way_, he thought bitterly, waiting as his body slowly returned to normal. _Kurt's not even here._ He peered his head out from under the covers and breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that he could breathe again. He heard Rachel singing along to her headphones across the apartment and rolled his eyes, but he was more focused on the fact that he'd survived this...whatever it was. Panic attack.

_Fuck yeah, I made it. Suck it, rain. Suck. It._

The ringing of his phone interrupted his private little celebration, and he reached for it quickly, answering it without bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Kurtsie!" he said into the phone, trying to sound bright, or at least like he hadn't just spent god knew how long panicking in bed over a thunderstorm like a little kid. "How's work, baby? Do I need to go over there and remind Sebastian who's the only one that's allowed to touch your ass? Or any other body part?" He figured with Rachel's headphones blasting away in her ears, he was pretty safe talking like that without risking her hearing.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a minute, and then Carson heard a very familiar voice ringing through from the other end. "You little shit."

Carson froze in the bed, his eyes widening and his heart rate quickly climbing back up to dangerous levels as he realized his mistake. "S-santana?"

"_Why_ was I not informed that you and Kurt were now getting on your sweet twin kisses on a regular basis?" Santana asked, sounding only slightly put out, but mostly amused. "Come on, I was so instrumental in getting you to finally make out instead of getting us all pregnant with the sexual tension between the two of you, and I don't even get told? I'm hurt, Hummel, I have to say."

Carson didn't quite know how to answer her. He was too busy trying to calm back down. "I'm... I'm sorry?"

"Well, you should be," answered Santana with a sniff. "But you almost died and everything, so I _guess_ I can forgive you. Hence the reason I called. I've been traveling a lot this summer, and the internet's been spotty at best. I just found out about you the other day. How, um... how are you?"

Carson let out a breath and sat up, leaning his back against the pillows and adjusting himself comfortably. "I'm... I'm ok, I guess," he said.

"You don't sound ok."

"I am, though," Carson insisted.

"After being hit by ten thousand volts of electricity? Come on, how are you _really_?"

Carson sighed. "Well, I can't remember being hit, so I guess that's good. I'm..." He hesitated, wondering if it was safe to talk to Santana about his problems. He kind of desperately wanted to talk to _someone_ whom he knew wouldn't become a worrywart over him, and he knew that Santana wouldn't. That she would sympathize, but wouldn't treat him like a baby.

"Carson?"

He took a deep breath and started talking. He told her everything, or close to it, leaving out only the most personal of details. He told her about the headaches. The mood swings. The terrible hospital food. His inability to feed himself for a long time. His hard time writing his own name. It felt kind of good to get it all out.

"That... doesn't sound very ok," said Santana after a moment of silence when Carson finished talking.

"It's not," agreed Carson. "But I don't like Kurt making a fuss over me when he should be focusing on his own things, so I keep it pretty low-key. He has such a great opportunity with this internship, and I don't want to spoil it for him more than I already have."

"But I'm sure he doesn't feel that way," Santana pointed out. "Trust my psychic Mexican third eye, ok? That boy is head over heels in _love_ with you. He's probably so glad you're still alive that he doesn't care about any of that stuff."

"Mmm," Carson murmured, wishing she would stop talking about this. Thankfully, she seemed to get the hint.

"Ok, well, now you _have_ to tell me how Gelmet McBlowties got kicked out of Kurt Town and you got in. Because I am still _very very_ hurt that you didn't see fit to inform me. I practically pushed you two together as best as I could," she said.

Carson smiled, glad that she had gotten distracted and gotten off the subject of the lightning, and knowing that she was like a dog with a bone and wouldn't rest until she got the relationship details she was after. "Well, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, Bingo doesn't have the ability to keep his fucking dick in his pants for more than two weeks."

"Ugh, seriously?" said Santana. "I mean, not that I can't believe it, because, well... I used to cheat all the time, so... but truth be told, the thought of anyone stroking Bowties' warblers kind of makes me want to barf."

"Ugh, god, Santana!" Carson exclaimed in a hissed whisper. "Haven't I suffered enough in the past month without _that_ visual in my head?"

"Well, it's true!" Santana protested. "I mean, right? I just... even when I was into guys and he was in his "Do I like boobs?" phase, I just... no."

Carson snorted. "I've suddenly remembered why we were such good friends," he said happily.

"Shut up, you never forgot. So getting back to you and your precious Kurtsie Wurtsie," Santana prodded. "Details. Now."

"I don't kiss and tell, Satan. Sorry."

"But-"

"Nope."

"But you've at least... you know... with him, right?" Santana asked pointedly.

"Sorry, none of your business," said Carson, enjoying the frustrated sigh that came from the other end of the phone.

"Whatever, I'm assuming that you have," she said. "You must have, you were practically sucking each other's tonsils in my parents' linen closet that time, and that was before you had carte blanche to freely explore each other's junk."

Carson grinned. "Let your imagination run wild."

"I will," she said. "Ugh, I have to go, but don't be afraid to call me once in a while. I may be a heartless bitch, but, you know, you're my friend, so..."

"Ok," Carson promised. "I will."

"Bye. Don't do anything with Kurt tonight I wouldn't do. Wait... I'm a lesbian, so... scratch that. Do what you want."

"Thanks for the permission," said Carson sarcastically.

"You're welcome. Bye."

"Bye."

Carson hung up the phone, almost sad to have the conversation come to an end. It had been a good distraction from all the shitty things that had been happening to him. He spent the majority of the rest of the day reading a book in bed, practicing his handwriting a little (he wasn't able to get through his whole name again... he guessed that it was just a lucky fluke that he did it in therapy), and trying not to panic again when the rain started back up (thankfully not as hard as it had fallen earlier). He made sure that he took his pills on time and forced himself out to the kitchen to eat something late that afternoon, even though he still wasn't very hungry.

"Oh good, you're eating," said Rachel in a bored tone. "I hope you took your pills, too, because I don't want to have to deal with Kurt tonight."

Carson ignored her and carefully spooned cereal into his mouth, determined not to spill any. Other than a few errant drops of milk on his shirt, he thought he could call himself successful. _Thank fuck_, he thought as he gingerly carried his bowl into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. _Maybe I'm on my way back to being semi normal. Whatever "normal" means anymore._ He ran the bowl under the water and grabbed the bottle of dish soap, squirting some onto it and using the sponge to lather it up. _I told everyone I could wash my own dishes. See? I'm managing just fine. I'm not a baby._ He turned the faucet off after rinsing the bowl and was about to carry it over to the drying rack when he suddenly felt an all-too familiar tingling in his hands.

_Oh god, no, not this right now, please, not until I've put the bowl down..._

It was too late. He lost all feeling in both hands and promptly dropped the bowl, shattering it into a million pieces on the floor. _Shit!_

"Carson, what the hell?" Rachel shrieked, rushing into the kitchen and glaring at him angrily. Carson stared down at the floor, trying to flex his fingers and failing, since he still couldn't feel them.

"I-"

"We don't have a hell of a lot of bowls and plates, you know, and you're not even supposed to be washing your own dishes," she continued, crossing her arms across her chest. "God, look at the mess!"

"I can..." Carson stammered, trying to defend himself. "I can clean it, I just... my hands..."

"And great, that was one of _my_ bowls," Rachel huffed.

"I said I'd clean it," Carson said again, swallowing the lump that was rising quickly in his throat. He didn't know why he felt so humiliated right now, considering it was Rachel and her opinion meant absolutely nothing to him, but he did. Maybe it was because he'd had such a trying day already and this was just the straw that broke the camel's back. He lowered himself carefully down to the floor and tried flexing his fingers again. They still tingled, but he could kind of feel them a little now. "I just... can... can you get the dustpan?"

"Get it yourself, it's _your_ mess," Rachel snapped as Carson started clumsily picking up broken pieces of ceramic from the floor. "Why the hell would you try to wash your own dish anyway when you _know_ your damn hands don't work, I don't-"

"RACHEL!" Kurt's voice echoed through the apartment and Carson looked up sharply. He hadn't heard Kurt come in, but apparently he had just in time to hear Rachel's tirade.

And he. Was. _Pissed._ Carson knew he must be, because Kurt hardly ever raised his voice, and he was practically screaming at the moment.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Kurt yelled, taking in the sight of Carson on the floor among a sea of broken bowl before glaring at Rachel as he placed himself defensively in front of Carson. "What is _wrong_ with you, Rachel? _YOU DO NOT TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!_"

"I..." Rachel said quietly, looking slightly scared at the tower of angry Kurt looming in front of her. "He tried to wash his own bowl, and..."

"And you decided to fucking scream at him and demean him rather than, oh I don't know, _help him_?" Steam was practically pouring out of Kurt's ears. "He's _sick_, Rachel. He can't help it if he can't control his hands sometimes, and _you_ were supposed to be helping him with things like this!"

Carson swallowed and cast his eyes down at the broken pieces. A flash of red caught his eye, and it took him a minute to figure out that it was his own blood. He must have cut himself when he tried picking up the mess. Not that he could feel it.

"K-kurt," he said quietly, his bleeding hand shaking. "Kurt, my... my hand..."

Kurt stopped yelling at Rachel and crossed over to Carson, kneeling down beside him on the floor and gazing with horror at the sight of the blood. "Oh my god! Oh Carsey, baby, let me see." He gently took Carson's hand in his and examined it, gasping when he saw just how much blood was gushing out. "Oh my _god_, baby, come here, let me get you to the bathroom so we can clean that before it gets infected." He got up off the floor and gently helped Carson up, placing one arm around him and leading him out of the kitchen.

"Kurt, I..." Rachel began.

"Forget it, Rachel, just fucking forget it," Kurt snapped. "Just... clean up the bowl. Or don't. I don't care. Just stay away from him from now on."

"I'm sorry," Carson mumbled quietly as Kurt led him away. "I... it was an accident..."

"Shhh, baby, I know," Kurt soothed, rubbing Carson's shoulder as they entered the bathroom. "It wasn't your fault, Carsey."

"I almost had it," Carson murmured miserably, sitting down on the closed toilet as Kurt took an antiseptic pad and began cleaning the cut, which turned out to be not as big as the amount of blood would suggest. "I almost had it, and then..."

"I know, sweetie," said Kurt sympathetically and taking out a Band-Aid. "I'll stay home with you tomorrow, ok? You don't have to be alone with her."

"Kurt, no," Carson protested quickly. "You have work, you can't skip it just for me."

"Carson, it's ok," said Kurt, throwing away the bandage wrapper and stroking Carson's cheek softly. "Isabelle will understand. She knows the situation, remember."

"But-"

"Shhh, Carsey, you need me, and I want to be there for you," said Kurt. "You're more important to me than an internship, ok?" He leaned in and caught Carson's lips in a tender kiss, making Carson shiver with pleasure, momentarily forgetting his protests to Kurt's plan.

"Just _one_ day, though, Kurtsie," he insisted. "Ok? _Vogue_ is important, and I'm usually fine. Today was just a hard day."

"Just one," Kurt promised, standing up and reaching his hand out to Carson, who gave him a small smile and took it. "What do you say we take a bunch of junk food into bed and then cuddle for the rest of the night, hmm?"

"Ok," agreed Carson, wishing he could feel the same enthusiasm he normally would have felt at such a suggestion. "Sounds good."

_Or I could just disappear so that you don't have to spend so much time looking after me. You deserve better than that._

* * *

Kurt woke up the next morning before the sun had fully risen, his eyes automatically landing on Carson's sleeping form first thing. His twin had fallen asleep with his face buried in Kurt's neck the night before, and every breath he took was warm and rather pleasant against Kurt's skin. He cuddled Carson closer to him and lightly kissed the top of his hair, sighing as he held him. He knew that something was going on with Carson, something that was upsetting him and making him so very quiet and withdrawn. It was more than just the incident with the broken bowl, but he just couldn't pinpoint what it was, exactly. He supposed that Carson could still just be feeling the effects of trying to recover from such a horrible accident, but... Kurt wasn't quite sure. It was getting slightly worse every day, and he wasn't quite sure that Carson himself even noticed. He'd never been this withdrawn that Kurt could recall. Ever. Even after waking up in the hospital he had been more feisty and spirited than he was now. It was starting to scare Kurt a little, to be honest.

_It could be that he just misses me_, he thought to himself as he held Carson in his arms and slowly drew tender circles into his twin's shoulder with his thumb. _Maybe if I was around more often, he'd recover better. I knew I shouldn't have gone back to work so soon, and especially that I shouldn't have left him with Rachel. That was a disaster just waiting to happen._ Rachel had disappeared off to Brody's place the previous night after Kurt had told her one more time, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to yell at Carson like that ever again. He assumed she'd be gone for a few days, which was fine with him. After the way she had treated Carson, he didn't want her anywhere near him right now. Plus, it would give him a chance to spend some time with Carson, despite what he had said about only taking one day. He'd made a hesitant arrangement over the phone last night with Sebastian, who had quickly agreed to cover Kurt's desk and phone calls for a couple of work days.

"Should I be suspicious that you're so eager to help me?" Kurt had asked after Sebastian had agreed to the request. "I mean, I wasn't looking forward to it, but I was prepared to plead with you and stuff."

"Despite what you're determined to think, and, I guess, what you kind of have a right to think after the way I treated you last year, I'm not a heartless monster," said Sebastian cooly. "I understand that Carson is going through a difficult time right now, and that he needs you, so I'm happy to cover your work load."

"Well..." Kurt said, not sure what to say to that. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," answered Sebastian. There was a beat of silence, and then he spoke again. "Just out of curiosity, though, how much will doing this favor for you increase my chances of getting a threesome one day with you guys?"

Kurt groaned in exasperation. "Do you have any idea how much you suck?"

"Yeah," answered Sebastian. "And I also have a pretty good idea of how much _you_ must suck, if the way Carson acts like a rabid wolf if anyone so much as flirts with you is any indication."

"Shut up," Kurt snapped.

"I'm kidding, of course," said Sebastian with a sigh. "God, you are _no_ fun. Go on, though. Take care of Carson, I've got everything covered at _Vogue_. And by "take care of him," I mean...eh, you get it."

"You're the worst," Kurt had said as he hung up the phone. At least now he could take some time to take care of Carson.

He snapped himself back to the present, looking down at his sleeping twin and sighing. _I wish you would talk to me and tell me what's wrong, baby._

"Mmmph," came Carson's barely awake voice, and Kurt felt the warmth of his breath against the skin of his neck. "Is it morning?"

"It is, honey," answered Kurt, cuddling him closer as Carson nuzzled into his neck. "You don't have to get up, though. Neither of us have anywhere to be."

"I can't believe you let Sebastian take over your work," said Carson with a yawn as he removed his face from Kurt's neck and looked up at him sleepily. "Now he's gonna think you owe him a blowjob or something."

"Nah, he knows better than to ask," Kurt assured him, leaning in for a kiss.

"I have morning breath," Carson protested.

"So what? So do I," said Kurt with a shrug. "Besides, your morning breath isn't so bad. I kind of like it."

Carson gave him a small smile. "I love you."

"I love you too, Carsey," said Kurt as their lips connected. "Now, what do you want to do today? I was thinking we could cuddle in bed for a while, and then eat breakfast, and then cuddle some more."

"Or we could cuddle in bed," said Carson with an amused grin.

"Excellent idea," said Kurt.

"I am kind of hungry, though," said Carson, looking slightly mystified at the notion. "Maybe we can get up and eat before we cuddle."

"You're hungry?" said Kurt, getting out of bed and shivering in the cool morning air. "Let's get some food into you, then... god, it's cold," he said, crossing over to the closet and taking one of Carson's hoodies off the shelf it was sitting on. "You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?

"Kurt... Kurt, _wait_," Carson said quickly, sitting upright in bed with wide eyes. "Wait..."

Here, let me get you one..." Kurt reached for a second hoodie and gasped in surprise as a bunch of papers fluttered out from underneath it and fell to the floor. "What the hell?" He bent down to pick up one of the fallen sheets and peered at it, trying to decipher what was on it. It took him a minute to realize that it was a shakily written letter 'C'. "What _are_ these?" He picked up another, this one bearing an 'A' and an 'R' in addition to the 'C'. A sick realization settled into the pit of his stomach as he began to put the pieces together.

"Carson... are these, um... are these yours?" he asked, turning to his twin, who was biting his lip and looking absolutely mortified. _I guess that answers that._

"Yes," answered Carson quietly, sounding absolutely miserable as he stared down at his hands.

"Oh god, baby," said Kurt, dropping the papers back to the floor and carrying the hoodies over to the bed, sitting down beside Carson. "Carsey, why... why didn't you tell me that you were having problems with writing?"

"Because I was embarrassed and I didn't want you to know," Carson burst out, and if Kurt didn't know any better, he would have thought that he sounded on the verge of tears. "It was bad enough that I have trouble eating and washing dishes, I didn't need it known that I can't write, either."

Kurt just stared at him, not sure what to say. Carson just looked so sad and embarrassed, and Kurt's heart was breaking for him. "Carsey..."

"I just want to be normal again! Is that so fucking much to ask?" said Carson, letting out a huge, frustrated sigh. "I want to be the way I used to be, and I don't know when or if that's ever going to happen!"

Kurt wrapped his arms around him at once, hugging him with all his might and covering his face with tiny kisses. "Carsey, you will be. I promise you, you will be. Like I've said before, it will take time, but it will happen, baby."

"How do you know?" asked Carson, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you are the most extraordinary, ambitious, driven person I know," answered Kurt sincerely as he continued hugging him. "And if anyone can overcome these obstacles, you can. You're brave, Carson. And you know it." He reached for one of the hoodies he had brought with him and carefully put it on Carson before zipping it up and putting one on himself. "So here's what we'll do. We'll eat breakfast, and then I'll help you practice your writing."

"Kurtsie, you don't have to do that," Carson protested. "Really, it's fine. I've written my whole name in therapy, I just... I just don't like how awful it looks."

"Oh Carsey, it doesn't look awful," Kurt assured him, getting up from the bed and holding his hand out to his twin. "It will be a little shaky at first, but you'll get there."

Carson looked skeptical. "I guess so," he said as he accepted the offered hand.

Kurt waited until Carson was out of bed and standing before catching his lips in another kiss. "I know so. Now, let's go eat. I'm starved."

They ate breakfast quickly, and Kurt noted proudly that Carson managed to eat his entire meal without once dropping his fork. "You see?" he said, grinning. "You're improving every day, honey."

"Yay, I can eat a meal without making a mess," mumbled Carson. "Now I'm as accomplished as your average four year old. Lucky me."

"Oh, honey," said Kurt sympathetically as he took their dishes to the sink and began to quickly wash them. "I know it seems like such a little accomplishment, but every bit of progress adds up, you know. I mean, when you first woke up in the hospital you couldn't even do as much as you can do now, right?"

"I guess you're right," Carson mused. "I still hate it, though."

"I don't blame you, Carsey. I would hate it too, if I were you. But you're getting there. Little by little, you're getting there." Kurt finished washing their dishes and stuck them in the drying rack, turning back to Carson with an encouraging smile. "And I'm so very proud of you." He crossed over to him and leaned down to wrap him in a hug. "Now, we can either practice writing now, or if you really don't want to, we can go back to bed."

Carson was silent for a minute, and Kurt could tell that he was considering the options. "Can we go cuddle in bed after I practice writing?"

"Of course we can."

"Well... maybe I can practice for a _little _bit," Carson said slowly, and Kurt nodded, giving him a smile.

"Ok." He patted Carson on the shoulder and crossed back to the kitchen, rooting around in the junk drawer until he found the small note pad he usually used to make shopping lists and a pen. "Let's see what we can do," he said, setting the pad and pen in front of Carson and settling himself in the seat beside him. Carson picked up the pen, holding it awkwardly in one hand as he opened the note pad with the other.

"I... I'm not very good," he said quietly, as if in warning. Kurt shook his head, resting one hand gently on Carson's shoulder.

"It's ok, Carsey. Just do what you can do."

Carson nodded and took a breath before pressing the pen to the paper and painstakingly beginning a shaky letter 'C.' Kurt peered at it carefully. It was a little squiggly, that was true, but it actually wasn't nearly as shaky as the ones in the closet had looked.

"Carsey, that looks great," he said encouragingly as Carson began on the 'A.' "You're already improving over the ones you wrote before."

"They still look so shitty, though," said Carson with a frown as he finished the 'A' and began work on the 'R.' "I miss the way my handwriting used to look."

"And it will look like that again, Carsey," said Kurt. "It will. It just takes time."

"I know," said Carson, flexing his fingers before working on the 'S.' "See, this always happens," he said in frustration, slamming the pen down on the paper. "I always lose good control of my hand before I write the whole name." He crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the notebook with dislike. "And even if I could write the whole thing, it looks like I wrote it on a moving train."

Kurt reached out and took Carson's hand gently, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. "It's ok, Carsey. Practice makes perfect. Do you want me to help you with the rest of the letters?"

"Help me how," said Carson sadly. Kurt took the pen and handed it to Carson, who took it curiously.

"Hold the pen," instructed Kurt gently. He waited until Carson had followed instructions before scooting his chair closer to his and taking Carson's pen holding hand in his own so that it perfectly covered it. "Ok, now we're going to write the rest of your name together, ok?"

"Ok," said Carson. Kurt nodded and began guiding his hand to write the shape of the letter 'S' on the page, placing only the slightest of pressure on his twin's hand so that Carson was doing most of the work himself.

"Wow, that actually looks slightly less shitty than normal," said Carson, sounding just the teensiest bit interested in the result.

"Now let's do the rest," said Kurt with a smile, ignoring the self-disparaging comment. He guided Carson through the 'O' and the 'N' until Carson's full name was written on the notebook page. "Now, Carsey, do you see what you did there?"

"Well, yeah, but you were helping me," Carson pointed out.

"Not very much, though," said Kurt. "I barely even put any pressure on your hand."

"…... Really?" asked Carson, looking skeptically down at the notebook. "I did that?"

"You did. Let's do it again, and you'll see," said Kurt with a smile. He gently guided Carson through his name again, putting even less pressure on his hand this time.

"See? Look," he said, grinning down at the finished product. "That was practically all you. All I did was support your hand a little bit. See, with time, you'll have better control of your fingers and you won't need any help at all. I'm so proud of you."

Carson dropped the pen softly back onto the note pad and sat back in his chair, looking at Kurt with an odd expression on his face. "Kurt?" he asked.

"Yes, Carsey?"

Carson hesitated, looking as though he had something heavy weighing on his mind that he wanted to ask. "I...um... nothing," he said finally, shaking his head. "It's nothing, I just... I just wanted to say I love you."

Kurt smiled and wrapped his arms around Carson's neck, catching his lips in a soft kiss. "I love you, too, baby."

"Can we go cuddle in bed now?"

Kurt laughed. "Of course, Carsey. Of course we can."

* * *

Weeks went by, and through a combination of rigorous sessions of physical therapy and the loving, patient support of Kurt, Carson was slowly but steadily improving. By the time late August rolled around, he was almost back to something resembling normal when it came to his motor skills. He could dress himself now without much effort, eat an entire meal without dropping his silverware once, and was finally allowed to wash his own dishes and be left alone in the apartment during the day again. He could even write again, sort of, although not for long periods of time, and Carson still fucking _hated_ the new way his handwriting looked.

_Thank fuck we live in the computer age,_ he often thought to himself as he stared in dismay at his ugly handwriting. _Most of my writing is done on a laptop and my shitty handwriting doesn't make me seem like just a strangely literate child._

Aside from that, and the fact that he still got headaches sometimes and had attacks of nerves and chest tightness every time it rained (which he successfully managed to hide from Kurt, at least) he was doing pretty well, physically. Mentally, however, he wasn't quite so sure. Even though he was gaining his skills back day by day and should have been happy, he just... wasn't. Not most of the time, anyway. He couldn't shake the constant feeling of melancholia that always seemed to be hanging over him, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't think of any reason he should be feeling so blah. His life was getting back on track, wasn't it? He was still in a relationship with Kurt, the love of his life, wasn't he? They were still going to go through with their original plan of Carson going back to Chicago for the fall semester, even though it had taken Carson a hell of a long time to convince Kurt that no, he didn't want him to move with him because that would mean throwing away _Vogue_, and he wasn't going to let him do that.

"But Carson, being with you is more important," Kurt protested more than once. "I don't need _Vogue_, I'll be reapplying to NYADA by the spring, anyway."

"Kurt, I won't have you throw away a perfectly good opportunity like that just because of me," Carson insisted. "It's only for a few months. We'll survive. And you know what? Think of all the reunion sex when I come back."

"Mmm, reunion sex," Kurt agreed. "But are you sure you'll be ok by yourself for all that time?"

"Yes, Kurtsie. Please don't worry. You're getting to be like me, worrying so much."

Several conversations like that had to take place before Kurt was convinced, but finally he had been. Everything was, more or less, getting back to normal.

So why did Carson feel so unenthusiastic?

* * *

Kurt finished doing his nightly skin care regimen and closed the bathroom light, padding across the apartment to the bedroom and pulling the privacy curtain closed. Rachel wasn't home at the moment, but she would probably be home later, and Kurt didn't want her disturbing him and Carson. Not tonight. Not on the last night they would have together for months.

Kurt already felt a painfully empty hole in his heart, and Carson hadn't even left yet. He didn't know how he was going to survive the whole time that Carson was away. He was going to be so lonely, and he didn't even want to think about Carson spending all that time alone. Who would make sure he ate and took his meds and went to his physical therapy appointments with the new doctor in Chicago? Who would love him and cuddle him at night and give him lazy kisses in the morning and make sure he knew how loved he was? For that matter, who would do those things for _Kurt_?

_Come on, Kurt, it's only for a few months. It will be hard, and you'll miss each other terribly, but the separation will probably make your love even stronger. Isn't that how the old saying goes, or something?_

He stood beside the bed and smiled down at Carson, who was underneath the covers and looking up at him with a mixture of sadness and a smile on his face. Kurt reached for the belt of his robs and untied it, letting it fall to the floor. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. There was no point, not when this was the last chance he would get to make love to Carson for a long time. Carson's eyes widened appreciatively as he took in the sight of Kurt's body in the moonlight streaming through the windows (well, more likely it was street lights and lit up storefront signs, but it looked enough like moonlight to satisfy Kurt).

Without words, Kurt climbed into bed beside Carson and wrapped him up in his arms, planting a tender kiss to his soft lips and using the fingers of one hand to stroke the side of his face.

"I'm gonna miss you, Carsey," he whispered.

"We'll see each other again soon enough," Carson replied, kissing him again and gently pulling at Kurt's waist until Kurt was positioned on top of him.

"Make love to me?" he asked. Kurt touched his forehead and nose to Carson's and breathed in. He had thought so long about asking Carson if he was ready to top, but somehow tonight didn't feel right. He wasn't sure if Carson would want to top yet, anyway, when he was still so insecure about his coordination and motor skills.

"Of course, baby," he said, catching Carson's lips in his own. "Of course."

* * *

It didn't really hit Carson that he was going to be alone without Kurt until after he had boarded the plane and slumped down in his seat. Only five minutes before, he had been wrapped up tightly in Kurt's arms as his boyfriend and twin cried softly into his shoulder.

"I want you to call me every day," Kurt said with a sniff. "And Skype me. Every day, ok? I want to see your face."

"I will, Kurtsie," Carson promised. "Every day."

"And remember to take your pills on time, and... oh, do you have the scarves I gave you for your pillows?"

"Got them in my carry-on," said Carson with a smile, patting it. "And I left you a couple of hoodies, and you have Carsey Teddy."

Kurt smiled through his tears. "Don't forget about me when you're living it up on that big Northwestern campus, promise?"

Carson laughed. "Baby, first of all, who do you think I am? I don't live anything up. And secondly... Kurtsie, nobody could ever forget you. Especially not me. You're the world to me."

_I'm actually more worried that you'll forget about ME, because you could do so much better than me_, he thought as Kurt kissed his own finger and pressed it to Carson's lips rather than really kiss him in a crowded airport. Carson did the same and pressed his finger to Kurt's lips as the final boarding call for his flight was announced.

_And if you DID forget, I'd understand_, he thought as he gave Kurt one last, sad look before boarding his flight.

And then it hit him. He was going to be alone. For months. No Kurt. Nothing at all that had become familiar to him in New York. He felt like he may as well have been getting on a spaceship to another planet. But, he reasoned, the separation would definitely do Kurt a world of good. He would have so much time to himself without having to worry about Carson being such a heavy burden. Really, this was the best thing for them. Carson would miss him so much that it hurt, but Kurt would get some freedom.

_And maybe I'll be somewhat normal again when I come back. Maybe I'll be worthy of him again_, he thought as a single tear slid down his cheek.

He slept through much of the flight, tossing and turning as he dreamed of the night of the lightning strike. He thought he remembered crying outside, but... that didn't even make any sense. Why would he have been crying? He woke up bleary-eyed as the flight landed, walking groggily through the airport and robotically hailing a cab back to his old apartment building. He wearily took the elevator to his floor and trudged down the hall to his door. It felt like it had been years since he'd been there instead of the better part of a summer.

"Hey, handsome!" Mrs. Moore shouted to him as he walked past her in the hallway. "I haven't seen you around lately. How have you been?"

"You don't want to know," Carson mumbled, letting himself into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. The first thing he did was unpack his laptop and set it up as quickly as possible, signing into his Skype account and sending Kurt a call request. Kurt answered it right away. Carson knew he would.

"Carsey!" he exclaimed as his face filled Carson's computer screen. "Oh, baby, you look so tired. How was your flight?"

"Long," answered Carson with a yawn.

"I miss you already," said Kurt with a pout. "I'll never survive this whole thing."

Carson smiled. "Yes, Kurtsie, you will. We both will. Pretty soon we'll be back in each other's arms again as if we were never apart."

"Never apart," Kurt repeated. "I like the sound of that."

Carson smiled, even though he kind of felt like his heart was breaking.

"Never apart."


	31. Chapter 31

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! I know this chapter is super late, but this has been the week from hell, what with illness and internet problems running rampant. And it's also super angsty, but... well, you probably knew that. ^_^ Try to enjoy it, and please don't kill us.**

Carson slowly opened up his eyes and blinked, letting them get adjusted to the early morning light that was currently streaming through his bedroom window. He didn't have to roll over and look at the digital clock beside his bed to know that he had woken up in just enough time to turn on his laptop and get on Skype before Kurt would begin to worry about him and start sending him "Where are you? Are you alive?" text messages. And if there was one thing that Carson hated more than absolutely anything else, it was making Kurt worry.

He yawned and rolled over, facing the still open laptop where it was resting in the bed from his Skype conversation with Kurt the night before. They had developed a routine, him and Kurt, in the past couple of weeks that they had been apart. They talked on Skype every morning as soon as they got up, and they did it again every night before they went to sleep, with lots of phone calls and text messages in the hours between. Carson had taken to keeping his laptop in the bed beside him rather than on his night table, so that it still sort of felt like Kurt was in the bed beside him, even though when every video chat was over he was left alone in his bedroom with nothing but a blank computer screen, one of Kurt's scarves to drape over a pillow and hug close to his body, and the framed photograph of the two of them that Kurt had given him for Christmas sitting on his bedside table, looking strikingly colorful and cheerful compared to its stark, bare surroundings. It was a crushingly lonely feeling for Carson, but at least the scarves helped. They still smelled strongly of Kurt, and that was something.

He reached his arm out lazily and quickly tapped at his keyboard, waiting for his laptop to come out of sleep mode and bring up the Skype window. A video call from Kurt was coming in not even five seconds after Skype automatically signed him in, and Carson smiled to himself as he clicked "Accept." _Never late for a Skype date, are you, Kurtsie_?

Kurt's face instantly filled the screen, making Carson's stomach flutter and his heart leap. These video conversations were the only things that he ever felt excited or joyful about anymore, and getting to look at Kurt and see his beautiful face was the best part of his day. He intended to savor it.

"Hi, Kurtsie," he said, settling his cheek against his scarf covered hugging pillow and settling his eyes on the laptop screen. He tried to make his voice sound as carefree and bright as possible. "Sleep well?"

Kurt yawned and smiled. He looked like he had literally just woken up, and Carson could see that he was still holding on tight to Carsey Teddy, the stuffed bear's eyes peeking out above the bulk of Kurt's arm. "I never really sleep _well_, Carsey," he answered softly. "Not without you. But it's ok. I know this isn't forever. What about you? How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby," Carson lied through his teeth. He'd rather eat glass than have Kurt know that oftentimes he lay awake half the night, staring at the ceiling and counting all of his flaws. All the ways in which he hated himself and was a disappointment to the world at large. All the ways in which he felt more like a burden, a cross that the world had to bear, rather than an active, useful part of society anymore. That he stared at the ceiling and sometimes wondered how in the hell he was supposed to make it through college feeling this way, let alone a career.

That he stared at the ceiling and wondered, with a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach, when Kurt was going to realize that he could do so much better than Carson. That he could have a real man who could give him things that Carson couldn't. Carson dreaded that day, but he knew it was coming. It had to be.

"Good," said Kurt. "I'm glad. You've been taking your pills, right?"

"Of course I have, Kurtsie," said Carson. "You ask me that every day."

"I know, but I worry and I like to make sure," replied Kurt, biting his lip. "Have you gotten any headaches?"

Carson shook his head. "Nope."

"Good," said Kurt again. "Got anything planned for today, or are you going to just stay put and enjoy your last few days of freedom before your classes start?"

"Actually, I have to go on campus today and go to the bookstore," replied Carson. "I haven't gotten my books yet, and I want to be prepared with them on the first day of classes. Otherwise, if we have to read anything I won't have a book and will have to share with someone. And you know how I don't enjoy talking to people unless it's to criticize them."

Kurt giggled. "I'm aware. But... Carsey, promise me you'll at least try to be a little bit social at school. I hate to think about you being _all_ alone for a whole semester. Make a friend. Or two."

"I don't make friends," Carson said, turning his nose up in the air.

"Now, Carsey, that's not true," said Kurt. "You made friends with Satan. And that girl with the video camera from your journalism class."

"Malerie," said Carson.

"Yeah, her," Kurt agreed with a nod of his head. "So I know you're capable of being social."

"I'll try my best," replied Carson with a smile. "But no promises."

Kurt smiled. "Good. Oh, and, you know. No hot men. You're mine," he added with a wink.

Carson felt his stomach fluttering again as he reached out one finger to gently stroke the laptop screen where Kurt's cheek was. "Of course I'm yours, Kurtsie. You don't have to worry about that. My heart is always yours, no matter what."

The joyful smile that lit up Kurt's face seemed to make the whole room just a little bit brighter, even though he wasn't actually in it. "And my heart belongs to you, Carsey. Forever. You and nobody else, you can count on that." He leaned his face forward and Carson could see his lips touching the screen as he kissed it. "God, I wish I could kiss you for real. Can the semester be over yet?"

Carson laughed. "You have a wait ahead of you, Kurtsie."

"Shit," mumbled Kurt, yawning. "Well, when I get you back in my arms, I'm probably never going to let you go, so just be prepared for that." His eyes turned toward where Carson knew his clock was, and he groaned. "I have to get up and go to work. I don't want to. I want to stay here and talk to you all day and cuddle my laptop."

Carson gave him a smile and tapped the screen where Kurt's nose was. "Oh, come now, Kurtsie. _Vogue _needs you. You're very important. I'll call you later today, ok?"

"See that you do," said Kurt teasingly. "And be careful going to the bookstore. I don't know what the crime rate is over there, but I don't like thinking about the possibilities."

Carson snorted. "I'll be fine, Kurtsie. I promise."

"Talk to you later, baby," said Kurt, blowing Carson a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," said Carson, sighing tiredly as Kurt hung up the video call and his beautiful face disappeared, leaving Carson with a blank screen. He shut the laptop and rolled back over, holding his pillow tight and burying his face in the fabric of Kurt's scarf, which was heavy with the scent of his twin's cologne. The very last thing he wanted to do today was get up out of bed and go out of the apartment, but he really did need to buy his books.

_Ugh, lucky me. Another day to trudge through_, he thought, feeling exhausted as he climbed out of bed, despite the fact that he had slept for at least ten hours the night before. There was no such thing as a normal sleep pattern for him anymore. He either slept for long hours at a time, or he didn't sleep for days (and it was generally the latter, because he found it extremely difficult to sleep at all without Kurt to hold onto). Not that it really mattered right now, he supposed, precisely because he didn't have Kurt around and therefore didn't really have the need to keep the appearance of a normal schedule. It would be a problem once school started if he didn't get a handle on it, though.

_Maybe I should start taking sleeping pills at night_, he mused as he shuffled his way into the bathroom. _Then I could get on a relatively normal schedule. I don't know._ He sluggishly turned on the shower and stepped inside, not even bothering to wait until the water warmed up first. He figured the freezing cold would snap him awake, but all it really did was give him goosebumps and make him shiver uncontrollably. He stood and let the warming water rush over him as he tried to mentally get himself motivated for the day ahead, even though the last thing he felt like doing was leaving the apartment.

_Just go buy your books, Carson,_ he told himself. _It's not like you have to go cross the Atlantic Ocean in a canoe. You just have to go on campus and buy a few books, and then you can go home. That would have been a slack day for high school you._ He sighed as he thought of the crazy schedule he had kept at McKinley, and how doing even half of that now seemed impossible. He suddenly felt even more tired and listless.

_Again, how in the HELL am I going to make it through college_? he thought to himself miserably. He finished his shower and got out, shivering as he wrapped his towel around himself and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. He threw on a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a hoodie, carefully placing his class schedule and the note that Kurt had written him on the morning of his first physical therapy session in the pocket. He never left the apartment without it. He supposed that was a little weird, but he felt like it brought him good luck, somehow. Plus, he liked carrying around something that Kurt had touched. He went into the tiny kitchen, taking his pills but deciding that he didn't feel like eating any food, and headed out the door as he grabbed a canvas bag and shoved his phone and his key in his jeans pocket, praying that he wouldn't run into Mrs. Moore today. He was so _not_ in the mood to deal with her. Fortunately, he got past her door without incident. He shuffled into the elevator and pressed the lobby button as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

_**Hey, sexy. -K**_

Carson smiled down at the text message, dashing off a reply.

_**That's my line, quit stealing it. -C**_

_**Never. Have you left the apartment yet? -K**_

_**Leaving now. -C**_

_**Ok. Pleeease be careful. -K**_

_**I will, Kurtsie. -C**_

_**I know, I'm just being a worrier. Have fun. -K**_

_**I wouldn't jump right to 'fun.' -C**_

_**Oh, honey. :) Remember, NO HOT GUYS. Or guys in general. You and that hot ass of yours are mine. -K**_

_**Noted, baby. Not that you have to worry about that. -C**_

_**I know. I love you. ^_^ -K**_

_**Love you too. -C**_

Carson smiled to himself and stuffed his phone back in his pocket as he stepped off the elevator, thinking that maybe his day wouldn't be quite so bad. _Try to be happy, Carson. You've got a good future. You've got the man you love waiting patiently for you in New York. You'll see him again in a few months. And in the meantime, you're on an exciting Chicago adventure. Forget your problems and try to enjoy your life, please._

Unfortunately, life or the universe or the cosmos must have sensed that he was trying to be positive and upbeat, because it saw fit to send a rain shower down while he was on his commute to the university bookstore. Carson promptly forgot all about being positive about life and instead focused on trying not to stop breathing from panic in the middle of a crowded bus.

_It's just rain... just rain, just rain, you're fine, it's just... it's just a little rain_, he chanted to himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them as he buried his face in them, hearing his pounding heartbeat in his ears. _It's just rain, stop being like this. You're probably freaking out half the people on this bus, and you're going to be known as the weird guy who breathes heavily. What would Kurt think of you if he could see you now?_

Thankfully, the rain had passed and so had his mini panic attack by the time he got off the bus, and by the time he had navigated his way to the bookstore, the sun was shining again. _Small favors_, he thought with a sigh as he pushed the door open and pulled his printed out class schedule out of his pocket.

"Can I help you find something?" asked a bored looking female employee. Carson shook his head.

"No, thanks. I've got it," he answered her, taking his schedule and resolving to find his books himself. _How hard can it be_? he thought to himself. Indeed, it wasn't very hard at all, and soon he had an armful of heavy textbooks he was required to have for each of his classes. _Jesus Christ, what the fuck are these things made of? Bricks?_ he thought, starting to feel exhausted from lugging them around. There was just one more book to find, and then he could go home.

_Let's see_, he mused, browsing the aisles and looking down at his schedule. He found the aisle he was searching for and sighed as he came across a group of three guys gathered around talking and laughing in the middle of it.

"Excuse me," he said, trying his best not to sound as irritated as he felt as he waited for them to move. They either ignored him or didn't hear him, since they didn't acknowledge him and just kept talking, so he cleared his throat and tried again.

"Excuse me!" he said, a little louder and more irritated this time, and the guys gave him dirty looks as they passive aggressively moved only enough to barely let Carson pass. He heard one of them mutter "Rude" under their breath, and he had to seriously resist the urge to lay into him and verbally hand him his ass back on a platter. _You're trying to be positive, Carson. For Kurt. Kurt likes positive people. If you're going to live your lives together, maybe you should try to be more like the sort of person he likes._ He sighed and found the book he was looking for, carefully adding it to the pile and preparing to head for the cash register when he felt the all-too familiar tingling feeling in his hands again.

_Oh no...no, no, not here, please... _

His silent plea went unheeded, for suddenly he lost all feeling in his hands and watched as his enormous pile of heavy books tumbled to the ground, scattering everywhere with a series of loud thumps. The group of guys stopped talking and turned to stare at him, and Carson could just imagine what they were thinking, looking at the pathetic guy in front of them holding his shaking, numb hands out in front of himself while he stared helplessly at the pile of fallen textbooks. _What a freak_, they were probably thinking. _Look at him, just staring at his fucking books like a dumbass. What, he forgot how to pick them up?_ He tried to flex his hands, willing the feeling to come back to them as quickly as possible so that he could get the fuck out of there, and thankfully it only took a few seconds for the numbness to relax into tingling. It wasn't full feeling, but he would take it. He bent down and started clumsily trying to gather up the books.

"You drop your books, bro?" asked one of the guys with a snort, and his friends laughed at his lame joke as Carson's face burned from humiliation. _Ignore them, Carson. Just ignore them, they're not worth it._

"Things must be _picking up_ for you, huh?" another guy said, receiving more uproarious laughter in return, and Carson gritted his teeth as embarrassment and irritation flooded his very being.

"Fuck you," he muttered as he finally managed to gather the rest of the books and stood back up. The guys apparently thought this was the most hilarious thing ever, because they laughed louder as Carson stalked over to the cash register, grateful as hell that he wouldn't ever have to be seen in that bookstore ever again. He could feel them staring at him and whispering behind his back, and he practically flew out the door after he had paid for the books, barely managing to hold himself together during the bus ride back to his neighborhood.

But when he had gotten back to his apartment, put his pajamas back on, and had crawled back into bed, trying to stave off another anxiety attack as he heard drizzling raindrops patter against his window, he realized that there was nobody around to hold himself together _for_. Kurt wasn't there. He wouldn't see if Carson fell apart a little. He wouldn't see if Carson shook and had trouble breathing as he covered his ears against the rain. He wouldn't see the few small tears that trailed down his face as he wished for the rain and for this whole fucking day to just disappear and be erased from history.

_Thank god he's not here_, he thought as he hugged the pillow draped with Kurt's scarf and breathed in, trying to lull himself to sleep. _He's not here to see me like this, and I'm grateful for that. I don't want him to see me like this. Not now. Not ever._

Eventually, he fell into a fitful, restless sleep, tossing and turning as images flooded his mind. Memories. He saw himself in Kurt's bedroom in New York, and there was Kurt, and... they were fighting? But he and Kurt never fought... what would they fight about? He saw himself crying and storming out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, in fact, and Kurt screaming after him, begging him to stop. _Carson, stop... why aren't I stopping?... Kurt, baby, I hear you, I'm sorry, I'll come back, I promise. I just have to get myself to stop... I want to stop... STOP!_

He woke up in a sweat, his breathing ragged and tears streaming down his face. He felt absolutely awful and he had no idea why. He didn't know if he had just had a dream or if he had recovered more memories from the night of the accident. His instinct told him it was memories, but he wanted so badly to believe that it was just a horrible nightmare. It had to be. He would never cry in front of Kurt. He would never fight with him or make Kurt plead with him to come back. He never wanted Kurt to sound like that, not ever.

_I'm sorry if I fought with you, Kurtsie_, he thought miserably, gathering his Kurt pillow in his arms and hugging it tight. _I didn't mean it... I love you so much._ He bit his lip and debated whether he should just _ask_ Kurt what went on the night of the lightning strike. Maybe that would be easier than constantly regaining memories piece by piece, half of which didn't even make any fucking sense. _No_, he decided to himself. _I won't make Kurt relive that night. I won't make him remember how awful it must have been to... to see me... I mean, if it had been him who had been struck and I was in Kurt's position... fuck, I don't even know how I would have managed. And I don't want to saddle him with MY stupid problems. That's the last thing I want. This is supposed to be his break from me, from the absolute burden I've become. Who cares what happened that night? It's in the past and can't be changed, and remembering it won't really help, will it?_

So when he had Kurt on Skype that night and his boyfriend asked him how his day had gone, Carson took a deep breath and put on his bravest smile.

"It was good, Kurtsie. Really... really good," he lied through his teeth.

"I'm glad," replied Kurt, a smile spreading across his face, and Carson gulped at how stunningly _beautiful_ he was, laying across his bed on his stomach with his too-large sweatshirt falling off his shoulder, exposing the smooth, porcelain skin Carson loved so much. He longed to touch him. "I missed you today," Kurt continued. "I actually smiled like an idiot at the pencil I was using to take notes during one of Isabelle's interviews because it reminded me of how adorable you were in your little pencil costume at Homecoming."

Carson snorted. "Yeah, I was real adorable, alright. I was so adorable that everybody laughed at me."

"Aw, but baby, I wasn't laughing," said Kurt with a smile. "And nobody else should have been, either. You were the cutest little number two pencil I had ever seen."

"You're too kind," said Carson.

"I'm _accurate_," Kurt corrected him. "Did you find all your books that you needed?"

"Yes," said Carson quickly, not particularly wanting to remember his visit to the bookstore. "I'm all set for the start of classes on Monday."

"Good," said Kurt with a smile. "God, Carsey, I really can't wait until you're back here with me. You have no idea how many times a night I wish I could hold you."

"I know, Kurtsie." Boy, did he know. "We'll be together again soon enough."

They chatted for a few more minutes about inconsequential things, and Carson smiled to himself when he saw his twin yawn sleepily.

"You should go to sleep, Kurtsie," he said. "You look exhausted."

"I am," Kurt agreed. "But I want to talk to you. Don't like going to sleep without you."

"I know, baby," replied Carson. "I... I wish I could cuddle you. I miss you."

"Miss you, too," yawned Kurt, and Carson could see him holding on to Carsey Teddy.

"Give Carsey Teddy lots of hugs, and I'll feel them here," said Carson, smiling at how adorable Kurt looked, half asleep already and holding the teddy bear to his chest. "And then when I get back to New York I'll hug you extra tight, ok? Now go to sleep."

"Ok," agreed Kurt. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Good night."

"Good night."

They ended their call and Carson sighed, turning away from his laptop and hugging his pillow to his chest, letting the familiar smell of Kurt wash over him and fill up his senses.

_I just hope that I still have you to come back to at the end of the semester,_ he thought as he lay awake in the dark bedroom. _That you haven't finally realized that you can do better than me._

* * *

If Kurt had to describe in one word what life was like when he was now so far apart from Carson, he would probably have to say _sucks_. He absolutely hated everything about it. He hated that he couldn't snuggle against Carson's warm skin in the morning when he first woke up, couldn't bury his nose in his hair and breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of him. He hated that he couldn't kiss him at night before they drifted off to sleep holding onto one another. He missed Carson's snark, and his inappropriate jokes, and his new found way of pouting when he wanted something that Kurt was convinced would harm his recovering health.

And most of all, he hated not being there to help take care of him. He wanted to be by his side and make sure he was still recovering well. He wanted to make sure that he was eating and sleeping and taking care of himself and not cutting his hands on broken plates. He wanted to be there and make sure that Carson was ok, that he was alive and breathing, that he hadn't been snatched away from him in the dark of the night, as had almost happened that dreadful night of the lightning strike, the night that had robbed his beloved twin of so much.

_And it was all my fault_, he often thought to himself. _If I had told Blaine sooner to leave me alone, none of this ever would have happened._ He wasn't sure whether to count himself as lucky that Carson still didn't seem to remember what happened that night, or whether to feel guilty for purposefully not telling him. He knew there was a possibility that Carson would remember everything one of these days, and Kurt secretly hoped that day would never come. Sure, he would explain everything, but just the thought of seeing the hurt, sad look that had been on Carson's face when he had seen Blaine kiss him... it was too much. Kurt never wanted to see Carson sad enough to cry ever again, and if that meant not telling him why he had been outside to be hit by lightning, well... he supposed it wasn't really harming his twin for him to remain quiet.

So he focused on counting down the months until this temporary separation would be over and he could see Carson again (and hold him and kiss him and never let him go). He kept himself busy at _Vogue_, doing whatever tasks Isabelle set down for him and giving them all his effort and focus to keep his mind off of how much he missed his boyfriend. It was certainly a better distraction than listening to Rachel moan endlessly about how mean her dance instructor at NYADA was to her.

"She's a nightmare," Rachel was fond of saying with disgust on the mornings she had dance class. "I swear, she saves up all her negative energy _just _for me, and if I wasn't so confident and poised, I would really tell her where to shove it."

Kurt let her talk, but never really listened to her. Personally, he thought Cassandra July was pretty cool, and that if she had a problem with Rachel specifically, then... well, he didn't want to sound like a jerk, but Rachel had probably done something to piss her off. It wouldn't be the first time she had gotten on the bad side of a teacher, after all. Not that he said this out loud, even though the temptation to do so was certainly there. Things between him and Rachel had been just a little bit frosty ever since he had walked in on her yelling at Carson over the broken bowl, even though she had apologized and even Carson himself had apologized (begrudgingly) for breaking it in the first place.

"So, are you coming to Lima with me this weekend or what?" she asked one morning as Kurt sat eating his Frosted Mini Wheats and reading the news on his phone.

"Huh?" he asked, looking up. He hadn't really been paying attention to anything Rachel had been saying for the past ten or so minutes.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "For the _play,_" she said irritably, and Kurt almost choked on his cereal. He had completely forgotten until now, but the conversation he'd had with Rachel and Miss July in the NYADA dance studio a few mornings ago suddenly came flooding back to him, clear as day. McKinley was putting on _Grease_ for the glee club's play this year, and Rachel had decided that she just had to go in order to see Finn, who was helping to direct it and whom neither she nor Kurt had heard much from in months, other than a few Facebook messages asking after Carson's health. Miss July had quickly offered Rachel the use of her frequent flyer miles (a little too graciously, Kurt thought, considering that she supposedly hated Rachel, but he didn't really care enough to question her motives).

"I don't really feel like going, Rachel," he replied calmly through a mouthful of Wheats. "I have a lot of work to do at _Vogue_, and it's not really a good time." Not to mention that the last thing in the world he felt like doing was running into Blaine, which would be inevitable, since his ex-boyfriend was in the play.

Rachel pouted. "But Kurt, I don't want to go by myself," she whined. "It's been forever since I saw Finn, and it will be so awkward. Besides, don't you want to see Blaine? You haven't seen him since... well, you know. That night at the piano bar."

Something about what Rachel said vaguely nagged at Kurt, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. _If only she knew_, he thought, trying to withhold the snort that threatened to escape.

"Rachel, Blaine and I are done," he said, turning off his phone screen and taking his cereal bowl to the sink. "I don't need or want to talk to him." _You have NO idea how much I don't want to talk to him._

"Well... ok, fine, but don't you at least want to see our old friends?" she wheedled. "And spend some time with our families?"

"I can't, Rachel. What if something happens to Carson and he needs me?" asked Kurt, washing his bowl and putting it on the drying rack.

"So what if something does?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Are you any more help to him here than you would be in Lima? He'll be _fine_. And besides, you can't avoid going home forever just because of Blaine, so... _please_ come with me? Please?"

Kurt sighed, thinking it over. She did have a point. He would have to go home at some point. He couldn't avoid it forever, and he _did_ really miss his glee club friends who were still McKinley students. It would be nice to see them again. And he could still drop everything to go to Chicago if Carson really needed him. _Besides, Ohio is closer to Chicago than New York is, Kurt. Come on._

"Well..." he mused out loud, regretting it almost immediately when Rachel gave a joyful shout and threw her arms around Kurt.

"Thank you, Kurt!" she said happily, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which he wiped away with a disgusted face. "We should start to pack, and I'll book the earliest flight I can find for Saturday."

_Joy_, thought Kurt as he set the table back the way it was pre-breakfast. _Now how the hell am I supposed to avoid Blaine?_

* * *

He didn't tell Carson that he was going to see _Grease_. He didn't want his twin worrying over the fact that Blaine would be there, especially since Kurt planned to avoid him as much as possible anyway. He simply told him that he was going home for the weekend, and that Carson shouldn't hesitate to call him if he needed anything.

"I'm serious, Carsey. If you need _anything_, I will be on the first plane to Chicago, ok?" he asked him over Skype the night before he left.

"Kurtsie, I'll be fine," Carson assured him. He looked tired, and Kurt hoped that he was getting enough sleep, what with all his classes and his physical therapy appointments, not to mention the vast amounts of homework he must be bringing home each night. "You go. Have fun. Give Dad a kiss for me, and say hi to Carole."

"I will," Kurt promised. "Are you ok, Carsey? You look tired."

"Oh, um... yeah, I'm just... school is really demanding," said Carson. "Lots of homework and stuff. I barely have time to think, let alone sleep."

Kurt frowned. "But you're ok, right? Your headaches? Have you gotten any of those lately?"

"No," Carson assured him. "Not recently...oh! But look!" he exclaimed excitedly, maneuvering himself in front of the webcam and unzipping his hoodie to show Kurt his bare chest. "Look what's almost gone!"

Kurt peered closely at his twin's chest, grinning as he realized that the vine-like lightning scar that had been there before was almost all the way faded. "Carsey, that's great!" he squealed. "Oh, but aren't you terribly disappointed, though? I know how much you liked it."

"Are you kidding?" asked Carson. "Disappointed? No. The less reminders I have of the lightning, the better. And between you and me, I can't wait for you to touch the skin again now that it's not all scarred and gross."

"Oh, Carsey," said Kurt. "It was never gross. But yes, I can't wait to touch it again, either. Scar or no scar."

"I love you, Kurtsie," said Carson with a yawn. "I want you to go to sleep now, and call me the second your plane lands in Lima tomorrow, ok? You know how I worry."

Kurt laughed. "I'm aware. And I will, I promise. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Kurt spent much of the plane ride the next morning trying to strategize how he could see the play with minimal to no contact with Blaine. It wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to do it. He didn't trust himself not to blow up at him for everything he had caused, and he didn't want to make a scene on his friends' big night. By the time he arrived at his house, he had decided to just arrive a little bit late and leave as soon as possible, leaving no time to run into Blaine at all. He supposed he could always hang out with his friends at some point over the weekend.

"Hey, kid," said Burt happily as he answered the door and wrapped Kurt up in a hug. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Kurt lied. His father didn't need to know that he almost hadn't even come at all because of Blaine. Or that he missed Carson so bad that it hurt.

"How's your brother?" asked Burt. "I try to call him, but he never says much. You know how he gets."

"Carson's doing well," Kurt assured him with a smile. "We talk on Skype every night. He's a little tired, but he says he has a lot of schoolwork, so... I don't know. I'll be happy when he's finished his transfer over to New York so I can keep an eye on him." _And other body parts... not that you need to know that._

He settled his things into his and Carson's old bedroom, letting memories wash over him as he sat on the bed. Mostly they were memories of all the time that had been wasted in that room. When Kurt thought of all the times he could have been wrapped up in Carson's arms as a lover and not just a brother, it made his stomach clench. _How the hell could I have been so stupid?_ he thought to himself. _All that I put him through... and for BLAINE, of all people. I just... god, Carsey, I'm so sorry._

He didn't have very much time to sit and reflect, however, before Rachel was letting herself into the house and marching up to his room as if she owned the place. "Kurt, come on, the play is going to start soon, and I want to get a good seat," she ordered, looping her arm through his and practically dragging him out of the house and into the car she had rented. Kurt sighed, feeling more like he was on his way to a funeral than to a school play. _Just remember, Kurt, you don't HAVE to talk to him. He'll complain and want to talk, but you owe him nothing. All that matters now is you and Carson, and your relationship with him. Blaine is nothing anymore, especially after the abhorrent way he has treated you and Carson, and he needs to realize this. Just go, see your friends, and ignore him._

This turned out to be much easier said than done. The play was beautifully performed, and Kurt had to admit, he enjoyed it a lot, but he could easily have done without Blaine performing "Beauty School Dropout" and casting looks at him in the audience that Kurt knew damn well were meant to be "I'm sorry, please forgive me" eyes. _Fat chance_, Kurt thought bitterly, stewing in his seat. _You almost cost me the man I REALLY love, and that is something I will never forgive you for, no matter how much you beg._ He couldn't help but wonder if Blaine was taking some kind of special joy in the song, like it was meant as a shot at him.

"You're not cut out to hold a job, better forget it..."

_Fuck you, Blaine._

He was relieved when the song mercifully ended and he could go back to enjoying the rest of the play, but his relief was short-lived, because wouldn't you know it, Blaine was right there in the hall waiting for him and Rachel on their way out of the school when the play was over. Rachel left to give them time to talk, and Kurt wanted to cling to her and demand that she not go any damn where, because he did _not_ want to be left alone with Blaine, but she was already out of sight before he could think of a way to tell her this. _Fuck_.

"I'm not interested," he said to Blaine, turning away and beginning to walk down the opposite end of the hallway. Where he was going, he had no idea, but he knew that he simply could _not_ talk to Blaine right now. At least, not without punching him in the face, and he couldn't really do that here.

"I never told you about... what happened," Blaine protested, following him down the hall. "The guy that I hooked up with... I need you to know everything."

Kurt rolled his eyes. _Seriously? He's bringing THIS up? Instead of, oh I don't know, apologizing for trying to take advantage of me in an emotional state in that hospital? Jesus Christ._

"What are you going to tell me?" he asked hotly, turning around and glaring at Blaine. "That it wasn't serious? That you only made out? That you didn't care about him?

"I didn't care," Blaine said, but Kurt wasn't finished. Now that he could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, he was going to let it out come hell or high water.

"Do you think any of that matters to me?" he asked. "Relationships are about trust, and I don't trust you anymore. So, if this is some stupid, misguided attempt to get back together with me, _again_, you can fucking forget it, Blaine, because it's not going to happen. And furthermore, you have some nerve even trying this right now. I thought I made my feelings perfectly clear in the hospital that I wanted you to _leave. Me. Alone._ I didn't come here to see you, I came here to see my _friends_. Maybe it was a mistake and I shouldn't have come at all if you can't take a hint. You and I are _done_, Blaine. _Done._ You got it?" He turned back around and stalked down the hallway, knowing even without looking that Blaine was probably staring after him with a confused puppy look on his face.

_Not my problem. Fuck him_, he thought bitterly as he found the back entrance of the school and pushed the door open. He couldn't wait to get home and talk to Carson.

"Hey, Hummel!" he heard a familiar voice shout, and he looked over to see Santana waving at him, still in her Rizzo costume. Come to think of it, he had been wondering why in the hell she was even in the play since she was no longer a student, but he figured it was some unexplainable glee thing.

"Hi, Santana," he said, trying to sound pleasant. "You, um... you did well tonight."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a tentative smile. "Um... how's Carson doing?"

"He's doing fine," answered Kurt. "Actually, I'm about to go home and talk to him."

"Mmm, I bet," said Santana with a sly grin. "Gonna be getting your sweet twin Skype kisses on, are we?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Not really in the mood for jokes right now, ok Santana?"

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Will you tell him I said hi? I try calling him, but he never answers my calls."

"Yeah, well, he's busy," Kurt murmured. "He has school and stuff. I'll tell him you said hi, though, ok?"

"Ok," said Santana, waving as she headed back into the school. "Bye."

"Bye," said Kurt, heading to the parking lot and to Rachel's rental car, where she was already waiting for him in the driver's seat.

"How'd your talk with Blaine go?" she asked.

"Just take me home," Kurt muttered. He didn't say a word the entire ride, and he practically flew into the house and up the stairs the second he arrived home, throwing himself down on the bed and signing into Skype on his laptop. _Please be online, Carsey. I know it's not our usual time, but I just really need to talk to you right now, baby._

Thankfully, Carson's face filled the screen seconds after Kurt had placed the call, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi, baby," he said, smiling as he instantly filled with happiness at the sight of his love. "How are you, honey?"

"Tired," said Carson, yawning. "How's Lima?"

"Oh, well, you know..." said Kurt, waving his hand dismissively. "Same old shit. It'll be weird sleeping in our old room by myself. I wish you could be here to hold me like you used to."

Carson smiled. "Me too, baby. Bed's really cold without you."

"Aaaw," Kurt cooed sympathetically. "I'll be with you to warm you up soon enough. By the way, Dad says hi. Oh, and so does Santana. She says you never answer her calls."

"Yeah, well. I'm busy," said Carson. "And besides, all she ever does when we talk is make lame twincest jokes."

Kurt snorted. "That figures. Are you going to bed soon? You look like you could use the sleep, sweetheart." Carson really did look tired, and it worried Kurt a little.

"Yeah," said Carson. "I am, I promise."

"Good," said Kurt. "I want you to take care of yourself and don't work so hard that you forget to sleep." He talked to Carson for a few more minutes, ordering him to get a good night's rest before exchanging "I love you's" and closing the call.

_Just a few more months, Carsey, baby_, he thought to himself as he settled into their old bed that night, holding tightly to Carsey Teddy. _Just a few more months and this will all be over and we'll be together again, just like we should be._ He drifted off to sleep dreaming of the day when he would be able to cuddle close to his twin in their own shared bed in an apartment all their own.

_Soon._

* * *

The passage of time, far from alleviating Carson's problems, only seemed to serve to make them worse, unfortunately. He had thought that surely he would have gotten some relief by now from his anxiety attacks every time it rained, not to mention his general default moods of hopelessness, melancholia, and just plain _blah_. He had thought that starting his fall semester classes would distract him enough that either his problems would go away or they would be less noticeable to him. Unfortunately, time was doing him no favors and he felt even worse, if that was possible.

It wasn't school itself that was making it worse. Of that he was sure. He was actually doing quite well academically, as well he should have been, considering that he had literally nothing else to do with his time other than devote it entirely to his studies. He was passing every one of his classes with flying colors, which he knew that Kurt was proud of him for, and that his father was happy to hear about on the few occasions that Carson talked to him over the phone.

He had tried taking Kurt's advice to be more social, signing up for a few clubs and hoping that they would be both a distraction from his ever increasing anxiety and a source of... well, not friends, exactly, but certainly casual acquaintances. But no such luck. He just felt terribly awkward when he had to be around people in a non-classroom setting, especially people that he didn't know all that well, and _especially_ people that he couldn't help but feel were looking at him and judging him for being such an anxious freak when he had to quickly excuse himself when it rained so that he could go rock himself in the corner of the bathroom until the panic in his chest passed and he could breathe again. _So much for being social. I'm sorry, Kurt, I just can't do it. Add it to the laundry list of reasons why I'm a failure of a person._

His new physical therapist in Chicago, Dr. Harris, kept suggesting to him that he should consider seeing a psychiatrist for his anxiety problem. "If it's bothering you that much, therapy could be very beneficial," he insisted. "It could help you get to the root of your anxiety so that it can be treated and you don't have to suffer anymore."

_Thanks, but fucking no thanks_, Carson thought to himself every time the subject was brought up. _I don't need a fucking psychiatrist, ok? It's just a panic attack every now and then. It's nothing I can't handle on my own. I don't need THAT kind of doctor, I just don't._ He shuddered to think what Kurt would think of him if he had to go see a psychiatrist. Surely that would be the thing that finally convinced him that he's wasting his time with Carson when he could be with a man who _wasn't_ battling with a whole host of problems. _And I can't handle that, I just can't._

But his anxiety _was_ getting worse. Much, much worse. He checked the daily weather reports religiously, and if it called for rain, he didn't leave the apartment for any reason, not even to attend classes. He didn't care if he was marked absent. He was a good student, and he was more than able to keep up with the missed work. Fortunately, it didn't rain often enough for missed class to be a major issue. When it did rain, it was awful, especially if it did it all day. He was pretty much relegated to his bed with the covers over his head until it stopped, gasping for breath, with a terrible tightness in his chest, a pounding heartbeat, and an almost certainty that he was going to die. Sometimes he wished that he _could_ die, just to end the suffering. But still, he didn't see how a psychiatrist could help with that. They were just panic attacks. Panic attacks were common, right? All he really had to do was learn to calm himself down and he would be fine. At least, he hoped so. He refused to let Kurt see him like this, so he had to figure out something, and soon.

Kurt was the entire reason that he decided to stay home for Thanksgiving rather than go home to Lima. He just couldn't take the chance of it raining while he was there. He couldn't risk a panic attack in front of Kurt, because he knew that the second Kurt saw one happen, he would be scared and then he would be worried, and the one thing Carson _hated_ was making Kurt worry. So, going home for Thanksgiving was out. The only trouble would be coming up with an explanation to Kurt why he wasn't going home.

It certainly wasn't easy. He just barely managed to convince Kurt that he was far too busy with his schoolwork to go home for Thanksgiving, and even then, Kurt had insisted that he would come to Chicago for the holiday instead of going home.

"You can't be alone on Thanksgiving, Carsey," he insisted. "I won't let you. I'll come to Chicago and we'll have our own little Thanksgiving, ok?"

"No, Kurt," Carson protested. "Really, it... you should go home and not worry about me. I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just _really_ busy and there's so many projects to get done before the end of the semester. It's really much better if I stay and get them done."

"But Carsey," Kurt started to argue, stopping when Carson shook his head.

"Kurtsie, if you come here, you'll just sit around bored while I work, and I will _not_ allow you to have a terrible holiday on account of me," Carson said firmly. "Besides, we have our whole lives ahead of us to spend Thanksgiving together. One skipped year won't kill us."

"Well," said Kurt, thinking it over. "I... I just hate to think of you all alone on a family holiday, baby."

"I know, honey, but it's really not that big of a deal," said Carson, glad that he was managing to hide how he really felt. He would have _loved_ to spend Thanksgiving with Kurt and their family, because he missed Kurt so badly that it physically hurt, but he knew that it wasn't an option. He couldn't have an attack in front of his twin. He just couldn't.

Thankfully, Kurt finally, reluctantly agreed to spend the holiday apart, and Carson breathed a sigh of relief. He had spared Kurt from the possible horror of seeing him lose his shit over a drizzle. Progress. _If you can call that progress._

Kurt, as it turned out, ended up staying in New York with Rachel (at Rachel's insistence, apparently) for Thanksgiving, so Carson supposed that maybe that made him feel just a little bit better about missing spending the day with him. He may have been missing his boyfriend terribly, but he found it a little comforting to know that at least he wasn't missing out on tons of privacy and alone time with him. He would have to speak to Rachel about her unhealthy need to make Kurt do things with her that he wasn't crazy about, though. That shit couldn't go on.

Carson spent Thanksgiving Day on the couch in his pajamas, watching holiday TV specials and waiting anxiously for the rain that he had read was supposed to arrive by the late afternoon. It was early evening now, and so far, nothing had happened, but he knew it was inevitable and that he would certainly be spending a lot of time that night hunkered down in his bed with a heart that felt like it was ready to explode out of his chest. He wasn't looking forward to it at all.

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he answered it immediately when he saw Kurt's smiling face on the caller I.D. screen. "Hi, Kurtsie!" he said into the phone, trying to sound cheery and not at all depressed.

"Hey, Carsey," came Kurt's voice on the other end of the line. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby."

"Happy Thanksgiving," Carson replied. "Even though I don't know how happy it could possibly be for you, considering that you're spending it with Trollberry. Is it just awful?"

"Well... it's interesting," replied Kurt carefully. "Isabelle is here and she brought along a bunch of her friends and I guess we're having a kiki."

Carson frowned in confusion. "What the fuck is a kiki?"

Kurt giggled. "It's a party, Carsey. Just a party. It's not really that much fun, though. Not without you here."

Carson resisted the urge to sigh sadly. "I miss you, Kurtsie."

"I miss you, too, baby," said Kurt, blowing a kiss into the phone. "How's your schoolwork coming along?"

"Great," Carson lied. "I've, um...been super busy with it, but yeah. It's coming along fine."

"Good," said Kurt. "And hey, next Thanksgiving we'll be together and we'll have our own little apartment and we can have a domestic argument about the proper way to cook a turkey."

Carson snorted. "Oh, Kurtsie. You're cute. Like I would argue with you about turkey cooking. You're the one who watches all those cooking shows on the Food Network, not me."

"This is true," agreed Kurt. "Hey, I've got to go, Rachel is looking pissy. I'll talk to you on Skype later, ok? Before we go to sleep?"

"Ok," said Carson. "Miss your face."

"Miss your lips," replied Kurt, blowing one more kiss into the phone before hanging up. Carson smiled, a smile which lasted only a brief second before he heard the last sound in the world that he wanted to hear. A crack of thunder sounded outside, and Carson swore that his heart actually stopped beating for a minute, his blood freezing in his veins and his head pounding out the sound of _No, no, no, oh god, no, please..._

A second thunderclap sounded, and Carson jumped up off the couch and ran as fast as he could toward the bedroom, diving into his bed and pulling the covers up over his head. He had never been this scared before, never, not even when he was five and went through that brief phase where he was scared of clowns and then had been forced to endure one performing at Rachel's birthday party. That had been bad, but this was much, much worse. Every clap of thunder reminded him that he had been hurt, that he had been damaged, and that something as simple as going outside could end up being deadly.

_Stop, stop, please, fuck, make it stooooop_, he begged in his head as it started to rain. _Please, if it stops I'll be better, I'll be nicer, I'll help my fellow fucking man, just please make it go away, I can't handle this, oh god..._ He felt the walls of the room closing in on him, and the ceiling and floor, too. They were all closing in, preparing to crush him, and there was no escape. His heart was pounding so fast and so loud that he legitimately thought that either he would have a heart attack or that his heart would simply wear out and stop beating. Or explode. He tried taking deep breaths, which wasn't easy at all, considering that breathing even at a normal pace was proving extremely difficult for him.

_Please... please stop, I can't handle this. I can't. I'm going to break._

He closed his eyes and held his hands over his ears, desperately wishing for it to stop, but it didn't. A particularly hard clap of thunder made him start shaking like a leaf in his bed, and his head filled with visions... visions of a night so many months ago when he...

Wait. Oh god, he remembered. He remembered everything. Every goddamn detail was as crystal clear as day. He couldn't believe he had gone so long without recalling it. He saw himself and Kurt on Kurt's bed. They were going to make love, and then... yes, the knock on the door. He remembered it all. Blaine. Yelling at Blaine. Beating Blaine. Kurt sending him to the bedroom while he attended to Blaine's wounds. He remembered peeking out of the bedroom, and..._oh god_... he remembered Blaine and Kurt kissing for several long, heartbreaking seconds before he turned away and began packing his bags.

That was what the argument had been about. Fucking _Blaine_. Carson felt sick to his stomach. It all made sense. It all made so much fucking sense, why Kurt put up with so much from him. It was because Carson had been a rebound romance, and after the lightning strike he had felt sorry for him and he... he didn't want to break up with him while he was...

Carson rushed out of bed just in time to make it to the bathroom, where he vomited violently into the toilet as his heart kept pounding and his chest continued to tighten. He threw up everything he had in him (which wasn't much) and then slumped, exhausted and scared, into the corner of the bathroom, hugging his knees to his chest and allowing himself to let go and cry, because nobody was around to see him do it.

So that was it. Kurt put up with him because he didn't want to break up with him while he was in a delicate state. It made perfect sense. Carson should have suspected all along that Kurt was never really over Blaine. If he was over him, then he would have told Carson from the start what had happened that night. True, Carson hadn't wanted to know, but still... if he had wanted to, would Kurt have told him? Or would he have continued to try protecting Carson from the truth? _Oh god, Kurtsie, I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry for making you put up with me for so long and for not giving you any time to get over HIM. It's all my fault, I should have KNOWN, I should have sensed what you really wanted, but... but I..._

He threw up once more into the toilet and realized, as the rain finally stopped and he collapsed onto the floor, that he would need to talk to Kurt about this sooner or later. He just wasn't sure how. Because as much as he wanted to give Kurt his freedom, he also didn't want to hear the truth from Kurt's own mouth. It would hurt too much, and then Carson might _really_ break.

"I don't know what to do," he said out loud in a small, quiet voice shaking with tears as he buried his head in his knees.

* * *

He did nothing with his new found realization for weeks. He continued calling Kurt every morning and every evening on Skype, blowing kisses and exchanging "I love you's" and "I miss you's" and "I'll see you soon's." He said not one word about Blaine, even though everything in his being screamed at him to. He just didn't think that he could handle it if he heard Kurt actually admit out loud that he had never intended to stay with Carson forever. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he _knew_ that the breakdown he would have from that might never get any better. Plus, he didn't want to put Kurt on the spot and force him to break up with him. Kurt would feel terrible, which in turn would make Carson feel terrible, especially since Kurt had recently passed his second audition for NYADA and would be starting as a student there in the spring. He was so very happy, and Carson was so very proud of him. He didn't want to spoil it for Kurt by bringing everything up.

Still, though. This just went to show that Kurt was going places and moving on up in the world. If he stayed with Carson out of a sense of obligation, what did Carson have to bring to the relationship? What could he give Kurt that another man couldn't give him better? Carson was an anxious, unstable mess with periodically numb hands and a fear of thunderstorms. How could he possibly be good enough for Kurt? How could he live with himself knowing that he was dragging Kurt down?

Something had to be done.

* * *

Christmas that year turned out to be one of the worst Christmases of Kurt's life. That wasn't an understatement, either. If he never had to remember the Christmas of 2012, he certainly wouldn't complain, because it would go down in his personal history book as the Christmas his heart broke in half.

It started off on the wrong foot when Carson called at the last minute before the holiday and informed him that, just like Thanksgiving, he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. He offered no explanation when Kurt disappointedly asked why, only that he was "busy." Kurt had swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and sadly accepted his twin's words, only putting in a token protest of "I can come to Chicago, Carsey," even though he knew that Carson would insist that he not do that. And he was right.

"No, Kurt, I... I'm just really busy, sweetheart, and... it's best if you just don't come. I'll... I'll see you after the new year, ok, baby? I love you. You... you know that, right? That I love you so much."

"I love you too, Carsey," Kurt replied. There was something off about Carson's voice, something that worried Kurt and made his bones ache with a sense of foreboding. He tried to ignore it. Carson was just busy, that was all. After all, the semester would be over after the holidays and it would be time for him to move back to New York to be with Kurt. Maybe he was busy with preparations for that, Kurt told himself, wanting desperately to believe it.

So, with no Carson for Christmas, and with his father and Carole having booked a holiday vacation, he settled in for a quiet holiday in New York alone. Quite literally alone, because Rachel was going on a cruise with her fathers and wouldn't be around. He supposed he could deal. It was just one more holiday, and then all the rest of them for the rest of his life would be spent with his Carsey. He tried to cheer himself up and make the best of it.

He might have been able to, actually, except for the fact that Burt showed up out of the blue on Christmas Eve to surprise him, and while Kurt was happy to see him, it really only served to remind him that Carson _wasn't_ there, which only ended up making him sadder as he sat down that night to exchange gifts with his dad. He had given Burt a NYADA cap, and Burt had instructed him to pick up his gift at the Bryant Park in the city. It had seemed odd, until Kurt realized halfway there, with a joyful leap of his heart, that his gift had to be a person and not a thing.

_Oh god... oh god, could... could it be... did he bring him? Is Carsey here?_

Kurt practically flew the whole rest of the way to the park, almost knocking down several pedestrians on his way in his hurry to reach it, but he didn't care. Of course! It made so much sense! That was why Carson had sounded weird over the phone. He didn't want to spoil the surprise, and he had never been a particularly good liar when it came to lying to Kurt. He had to be there. He had to be Kurt's present.

Kurt arrived at the skate park, breathless, and began looking around hopefully, searching for the familiar blue hoodie so that he could smile and then yell at Carson for wearing nothing but a hoodie in such freezing weather and what the fuck was wrong with him, and he needed to put on a _real_ coat, and come on, Carsey, we're going home right now and you're going to drink all the hot chocolate I give you to warm you up.

He was so busy looking for Carson that at first he didn't realize that the familiar voice shouting "Package for Kurt Hummel!" was directed at him. Because no, that... _he_ couldn't be here. That was impossible. Surely his dad wouldn't... _Oh god, HE can't be my present, he just can't..._

Well, yes. Yes, he could. Kurt turned around to discover that Blaine Anderson really _was_ standing there, and he really _was_ meant to be Kurt's present. He stood there saying words that Kurt only half heard, because in his mind all he could hear was _Carson isn't here... he's still in Chicago... he really DIDN'T want to come home for Christmas, and I... I don't understand. Is he ok?_

"You're happy to see me, right?" Blaine asked, his voice cutting like a knife through Kurt's thoughts.

"Yeah... always," he answered sarcastically.

It only got worse from there. Kurt felt extremely uncomfortable being around Blaine in his own home on a holiday that should have been only about family. Specifically, Carson. He missed him even more now than he had before his dad had shown up, and all he wanted was to scream at Blaine to get out and, yes, he had a huge problem with him auditioning for NYADA next year, and for the love of God, stop acting so fucking chummy with his dad. He wondered how his dad could do this to him. Sure, he didn't know why he and Blaine had broken up, and he surely didn't know that he and Carson were involved, but still...

_WHY, Dad? Why would you give me my cheating, abusive ex-boyfriend for Christmas? I just... WHY?_

Little did he know that it could get so much worse.

* * *

The time had come, Carson decided. The fact that he had seen a brand new photo posted to Kurt's Facebook wall the day after Christmas, posted by Blaine and featuring him and Kurt skating cozily in the middle of a New York City skate park, was the last straw. As he hugged his knees to his chest and cried, he realized that he had to do something. He couldn't, in good conscious, allow himself to drag Kurt down any further than he already had if Kurt never really wanted to be with him in the first place.

And if Kurt wouldn't break up with him, then, well... Carson was going to have to take matters into his own broken hands.

It was one of the hardest phone calls he ever had to make in his entire life, especially when Kurt picked up the phone with a breathless "Carsey! Baby, I miss you so much, how are you, honey?" Carson swallowed the lump in his throat and reminded himself that this was for the best. That he was doing it over the phone and not in person or over Skype so that Kurt wouldn't be able to see his face when he cried. So that _he_ couldn't see _Kurt's_ face when _he_ cried, because it might make him lose his resolve.

That this was what was best for everybody, if Carson gave Kurt his freedom.

"Hi, Kurtsie," he said, trying to keep the emotion that he could already feel building out of his voice. "Um...I'm good. How, um... how was your Christmas?"

There was silence on the other end for a minute before Kurt answered. "It was... ok," he said finally, and Carson closed his eyes at the realization that he wasn't going to mention Blaine. "Pretty uneventful. How was yours."

"It... it was fine...um... Kurtsie, can... can we talk?" he asked, figuring that he should get right to the point and get the worst of the pain over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"Carsey, are you ok?" asked Kurt, his voice suddenly full of concern, and Carson almost chickened out right then and there, but he steeled his resolve and continued with his plan. He had to do this. For Kurt. Even though it would hurt Carson like nothing ever had, not even that damn lightning bolt.

"I... um... Kurtsie, I..." he began, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence, because he knew that once he did there would be no turning back. "I..." _It's for the best, Carson. I know you don't want to do this, but you have to. You're holding Kurt back. He deserves and WANTS better than you, and only the fact that he has a big, loving heart is keeping him from what he deserves. Give him his freedom._

"Carsey?" asked Kurt again, his voice quiet and cautious. "Baby, what's the matter? Why didn't you come for Christmas?"

"Kurt, I... I don't think that we should... that we should d-date anymore," Carson blurted out, his voice trembling only once. "We... we shouldn't be boyfriends anymore."

There was silence once more on the other end, so quiet that Carson at first thought he had lost the call, but then he heard Kurt's voice, so soft it was hardly above a whisper.

"You don't mean that, Carsey," he said, and Carson could hear that he was struggling not to cry. "You're joking, right? You think you're being funny? This... this isn't funny, Carson, come on."

Carson bit his lip and willed himself not to cry as he shook his head, even though he knew Kurt couldn't see him. "No, Kurtsie, I'm not joking, honey. I..." He took a deep breath and launched into the speech he had prepared ahead of time, the speech that he thought would hurt Kurt the least and make him feel the least guilty. "See, Kurt, I... I've decided that I really like it at Northwestern and that... that it would be best for me if I finished out my college career here. And...and I can't really be your boyfriend if I'm not going to be _there_, you know, so... I'm letting you g-go." He stopped talking to compose himself before he started crying, only to realize that _someone_ was already crying.

"Carsey, no," Kurt said through his tears, and Carson could just picture him, probably sitting on the bed with the phone, his pretty blue eyes welling up with tears. "Carsey, you... no, you can't do this, I don't care if you want to stay at Northwestern... please, we can figure out a long-distance thing, I swear we can, you don't have to come here, just... please, baby, you can't... I... I love you..."

"Kurt..."

"Carson, _no_! That's... that's no reason to break up! I love you, Carsey. So much, more than you will ever know, and I... I think you love me... oh god..."

"Kurtsie," Carson interrupted, dangerously close now to tears. "I just..."

"_W__hy_?" Kurt sobbed. "I thought that we had something really special. Why do we need to throw that away just because of distance? I mean... oh god _please_, you don't understand, I _can't _lose you, I just... I thought..."

"Kurt, I'm sorry, but I just... I can't do this anymore," Carson said, hating himself for doing this to the love of his life, even if he knew that it had to be done. "I can't be your boyfriend anymore."

"Carson, _no_! Oh god, _please_!" Kurt pleaded. "I don't... oh god, Carson...please don't do this to me..."

"Kurt, _please_ stop making this harder than it has to be!" Carson exclaimed, using a much harsher tone of voice than he normally ever would have dared to use with Kurt, stunning his twin into silence. _Oh god, is this what it takes? Is this what it will take to make him drop it and let me set him free?_

"Carsey," Kurt whispered pleadingly. "I love you."

"Kurt, _STOP!_" Carson yelled, hating himself for yelling at Kurt like this, but if that was what it was going to take to accomplish his goal, then he would do it. _It's for the best...oh god, it's for the best...hurt him to save him..._

"CARSON!" screamed Kurt. "NO! I'm not going to let this happen, you can't..."

"I can do whatever I want!" Carson retorted. _God, WHY won't he let me set him free?_ "I'm not going to let this relationship continue when I... when I..." His voice shook with every word, and by the time he had reached the end of the last sentence, he was fully crying and hating himself even more for falling apart like this and for using such a harsh tone with Kurt when this was supposed to be quick and clean. It wasn't supposed to be this complicated.

"Carson, _please_," Kurt sobbed.

"_STOP IT, KURT!"_ Carson screamed. "_JUST STOP IT! _We're not... we're n-not b-boyfriends anymore."

"_CARSON!_" screamed Kurt. "Carson... don't you love me?"

"I'm sorry," Carson sobbed quietly as he hung up the phone. He sunk down the wall of his room and onto the floor, clutching the phone in his hand, and cried. It rang, and Kurt's face filled the caller ID screen, but he didn't have the strength to answer it. He declined it and turned the phone completely off, tossing it aside before he crumpled into a heap on the floor and sobbed. He sobbed like he never had before, like it was coming from the depths of his very soul. Like he was crying out all of his energy and life force until there was nothing left. He sobbed so hard that he very nearly threw up, managing not to but choking and spluttering even so. He sobbed for what felt like hours, until he had no tears left, until every last part of his body, from his skin to his bones, was dead tired and exhausted.

_I'm sorry, Kurt. It was for the best. For your own good. You're free now. You don't have me to deal with anymore._

_I did it because I love you._

_Please don't hate me._

_I love you._


	32. Chapter 32

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, here we go with a new chapter. Before we begin, let me just address a concern that a few readers have had, which is basically "Will this fic be angsty forever, or will things finally get better for Kurson?" Without giving too much away, you should prepare yourselves for a little bit more angst, but then the sun will come out, as it were. We promise. ^_^ And now... let's see how the boys are faring.**

_No... no, you can't... please... I love you... Carsey... please... CARSON!_

"PLEASE!" Kurt screamed as he jolted awake, his eyes shooting open and his skin breaking out into a cold, clammy sweat. He hugged his knees to his chest, trying to catch his breath, and it took him a few seconds to take in the fact that he wasn't in his own bedroom. He was on the cold concrete floor of the kitchen, slumped against one of the legs of the table and shivering because he didn't have the benefit of his electric blanket around him at the moment.

"Kurt?" he heard Rachel calling out, her footsteps sounding from her bedroom across the apartment. "Kurt, are you ok?"

Kurt hugged his knees tighter and buried his face in them, trying to calm down even as he sobbed quietly. No, he wasn't ok. He hadn't been ok since the night Carson had effectively ripped his heart out over the phone by breaking up with him with little to no satisfactory explanation.

He had been so sure that his twin was joking when he said that he was breaking up with him, but apparently Carson had not been joking. He hadn't been joking at all. He just didn't want to be Kurt's boyfriend anymore, and Kurt couldn't even begin to describe how much that hurt. He had stayed up all night that night, his laptop open on his lap and already signed into Skype. He had stared at the screen for hour after hour, just waiting for Carson to sign on and look at him and tell him that everything was ok, that he hadn't meant it, that of course he still loved Kurt and he was going to come to New York, or he could stay in Chicago if he wanted. Kurt wouldn't care, just so long as their hearts still belonged to one another.

But Carson had never signed on that night. Or the next morning. Or the following evening. Or at all for the past couple of weeks. He didn't call. He didn't reply when Kurt couldn't resist sending him a text every morning and every evening as though nothing was wrong.

_**Good morning, Carsey. I love you. -K**_

_**Good night, Carsey. Sweet dreams, sweetheart. -K**_

_**Good morning, honey. Please don't forget to take your pills. -K**_

_**Sleep tight, Carsey. I love you. -K**_

No replies, ever, even though Kurt knew the messages were read. Carson was ignoring him, and it felt like a sharp stab in Kurt's heart every time. He couldn't figure out what he had done or said to make Carson treat him this way, but he wanted so badly to know so that he could apologize or take it back, or hug Carson tight and promise that he would never do it again, whatever it was. It consumed him, so much so that he could barely concentrate on anything else. Carson was all he thought about while assisting Isabelle at _Vogue_, and he was the reason why Kurt just floated through his classes at NYADA like a barely functioning zombie. He had waited so very long to get into that school, and now that he was finally there thanks to his performance of "Being Alive" at the school's Winter Showcase, he may as well not have been. Because it was as if he had a blinking, neon sign planted firmly in his brain that said _"He never answered me when I asked if he loved me."_

_"Maybe he doesn't."_

_"Maybe he doesn't love me anymore."_

_"Maybe I'm just not a lovable person for very long in a relationship."_

_"Maybe I'm the problem."_

_"Maybe he finally remembered Blaine kissing me the night of the accident and... but he would have told me, right?"_

_"Maybe I'm just not the boyfriend he thought I would be."_

It was these thoughts that caused him to barely pay any attention in his classes, or at work, and it was these thoughts that kept him awake for hours every night as he lay miserably in bed, holding Carsey Teddy and staring out the window of his bedroom. He felt so alone, and he had nobody to talk to about it. Nobody who would understand. He had taken to popping a sleeping pill before bed just to make it through the night without sobbing himself into a puddle.

Not that it always worked, he noted as he lifted his face from his knees and looked up at Rachel with wet eyes. She was looking down at him, dressed in her bath robe with her arms crossed over her chest, looking slightly irritated but mostly curious, and a little concerned.

"Are you ok?" she asked again, frowning.

Kurt sniffed and nodded, trying to make his voice sound bright and unconcerned. "Yeah, I just... I just had a night terror and started sleepwalking. I'm sorry I woke you."

Rachel pursed her lips. "You should really think about seeing a doctor for those, you know. I thought someone had broken in and was murdering you. And not to sound like a bad friend, but... you're starting to get bags under your eyes. I mean, I didn't want to say anything before, but..." She trailed off and shrugged. "I mean, just a suggestion."

Kurt nodded, biting back the urge to tell her to fuck herself because she had no idea what he was going through and would _never_ understand. "Yeah, I should look into that," he replied, pulling himself up off the kitchen floor and shoving his hands into the pockets of the yoga pants he had fallen asleep in. "I... I'm sorry. Let's just both get back to bed, we have classes in the morning."

Rachel nodded. "Good night," she said, marching back to her room and pulling her privacy curtain closed. Kurt sighed and shuffled back to his own room, pulling his curtain closed and flopping down on his bed, He grabbed Carsey Teddy and slithered underneath the covers, curling himself up into a ball and holding the bear close to his chest, right against his slowing heartbeat. He closed his eyes and tried to telepathically send love out from his body and into the teddy bear, hoping that maybe Carson would feel it, wherever he was. That he could feel how much Kurt still loved him and just wanted to talk to him. Even if Carson didn't want to date him anymore, he still missed his big brother. He wondered for the millionth time why he didn't just go to Chicago and confront Carson, and then sighed as he remembered. He didn't want to do that because he didn't think he could handle the possibility of being told to his face that Carson didn't love him anymore.

"I'm sorry, Carsey," he whispered into the teddy bear's ear, hugging it tighter. "I'm sorry that I wasn't what you wanted."

* * *

Carson sat bolt upright in bed, his heart racing and his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. He grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it, burying his face into the fabric, where he could still smell the remnants of Kurt's cologne from the last time he'd had a scarf draped over it.

_No more... not again, please..._ he thought miserably as he registered the sound of rain tapping at his window and realized that this was why he had woken up so violently. It was becoming a more and more frequent occurrence as his panic attacks got progressively worse, so waking up in the middle of one wasn't at all surprising. It was, however, still extremely distressing, especially because he was barely able to sleep in the first place. Ever since he had broken up with Kurt, his ability to sleep and stay asleep had dramatically decreased, so that he was more often than not just barely making it through his day of classes before trudging back home to lay curled up in bed until the next time he had to go out. He barely even ate anymore. Sometimes he just wished that he could die and get it over with.

That was, until he inevitably would hear the text ringtone on his phone go off and pick it up to see that his twin had not forgotten to send his daily and nightly "I love you" message. They were like a fresh wound on his soul every time, because Carson knew he couldn't answer them if he really wanted Kurt to get over him, and yet... they were comforting. They meant that Kurt still cared, even if Carson knew that he didn't really want to be boyfriends anymore. They meant that Kurt was still his worried baby brother, and it hurt Carson to have to ignore him and not at least let him know that he was ok. _But you can't do that_, Carson reminded himself daily. _You can't talk to him. Not yet. Not until he's had time to accept the breakup and move on. That's what you want, right? That's the whole point of all of this. To make sure Kurt gets his freedom from you and your stupid problems. That won't happen if you talk to him now. You have to wait. Just wait, and then you can be brothers again and... and everything will be fine. _

For how long he would have to wait and endure the painful torture of an anxious, Kurt-free existence, he had no idea.

He hugged his pillow tighter and rocked himself as he started crying, feeling his chest tighten more and more with every passing moment as the rain continued to beat down outside. He fucking hated rain. Every time he thought it wasn't possible for his panic attacks to get any worse, they seemed determined to prove him wrong. _Surprise, fucker!_ they seemed to be saying every time. _You can never be rid of us, and guess what? We're going to turn your suffering all the way up to eleven, because fuck you!_

He lay there for what seemed like hours, wheezing and sobbing and listening to the rain as it pounded down relentlessly, wanting so badly to feel Kurt's comforting arms around him. To hear Kurt singing and whispering softly into his ear as he stroked his hair and held him close. To feel like he wasn't completely alone in this unfair fucking world full of rain and gloom. He wondered why the fuck he'd had the misfortune to be born under such an unlucky star. Why everything that could have gone wrong in his life apparently had. What had he done in a previous life to deserve this torture now?

_I must have been a horrible, terrible person_, he thought as he cried into his pillow. _I must really deserve this, but fuck, it hurts._ He wondered what his mother would say if she was able to see him now. She'd probably be disappointed that he'd turned out this way, he figured, but then, he'd always thought that he'd probably turn out to be the disappointment in the family. It was inevitable, really, because Kurt had obviously been blessed with all the talent and beauty and lovability. Carson was just kind of along for the ride. He should never have deluded himself into thinking that he could make anyone proud. Especially not Kurt. What had he been thinking, letting Kurt kiss him that night in New York? He should have gently told Kurt no. He shouldn't have taken advantage of Kurt in a weakened state. He never should have allowed their relationship to go so far, and maybe this wouldn't hurt so much now.

Hell, the lightning strike never would have happened. There was that.

He sighed and took a deep breath as the rain finally began to let up, inhaling Kurt's scent and letting out the breath slowly and shakily. This had been a particularly bad attack, and he was utterly exhausted. He turned over on his other side and curled up in a ball with his pillow, pretending it was Kurt and trying to fall back asleep, as hopeless as _that_ was. He swore that he could feel Kurt hugging him, even though he knew it was only his overactive imagination.

_Maybe I really SHOULD see a therapist, _he thought with a tired sigh as he buried his nose in the pillow. _I just know that I can't go on like this._

He heard a vibration coming from his nightstand, and he removed his face from the pillow, glancing over at his phone, which was lighting up with a text message. He didn't have to pick it up to know who it was from. He could see it from where he was laying, plain as day.

_**I know you're sleeping, Carsey, but I just wanted to say that I love you. -Kurtsie**_

_I love you too, baby_, Carson thought sadly, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep. _I love you, and I'm sorry. But it's for the best._

_For the best_, he reminded himself as he drifted off to sleep from debilitating exhaustion. _For the best._

* * *

Swallowing his pride and asking his physical therapist for a referral to a psychiatrist was one of the more embarrassing things Carson had ever had to do, unless he counted needing Kurt to help him take a piss when he was in the hospital. This was a different kind of embarrassing, though. Carson had never been the kind of person who asked for help. He took at least a small amount of pride in being entirely self-sufficient, and usually the very thought of having to admit that he needed help of any kind would have bothered the fuck out of him, because to him it meant that he was showing weakness. And showing weakness was definitely _not_ a part of his personal philosophy. Especially not around Kurt.

But the fucking lightning had happened to him. And Kurt wasn't around. Nobody in Chicago knew Carson as the strong, independent guy who could take care of himself. He might as well not bother with the charade anymore. Because he really _did_ need help. He couldn't deny that fact any longer. It was either seek help or let his panic attacks kill him.

Which was how he found himself a week later sitting in the very neat, very bright office of Dr. Nicole McNeil, taking evaluation test after evaluation test and growing more and more unsure that he should ever have agreed to do this. He'd been so sure that all he would have to do is describe his anxiety problem and he'd be presented with a prescription and sent home immediately. Apparently, it didn't work like that.

First, Dr. McNeil had interviewed him relentlessly, asking him questions about his family, his childhood, his relationship with his parents, his mother's death and grandmother's illness, Carole and Finn, the lightning strike and all the various medical problems that had come with it, and how he felt about all of those things. He grew increasingly more irritated at each new question, wondering why the fuck he was wasting time talking about all of these things and how, with the exception of the lightning, they were supposed to help him with his anxiety.

"Tell me about your relationship with your brother," Dr. McNeil asked him after the exhausting battery of evaluation tests, causing Carson to look up sharply from where he'd had his gaze focused on a piece of lint hanging off the zipper of his hoodie. "Your twin...Kurt. You've not told me very much about him. Do you two get along well?"

Carson set his jaw, looking back down at his lint and swallowing hard. He'd been trying so very hard to side-step any questions about his relationship with Kurt this whole time, downplaying them as though they were unimportant. The last fucking thing he wanted was to have to talk about him here in a psychiatrist's office. He didn't know if it would be obvious to Dr. McNeil how he really felt about Kurt, and he needed to be very careful and guarded here.

"I... I guess we get along, yeah," he said, reaching for the lint on his coat and rolling it between his fingers nervously.

"Would you say that you guys are close?" the doctor pressed. Carson sighed.

"I guess so." _You have no fucking idea, lady. _

"Would you say that there was any sibling rivalry between the two of you when you were growing up?" she asked.

"What? _No_!" Carson exclaimed, horrified by the very idea. He caught himself and settled back in his chair, trying to sound cool. "I mean, of course not. Kurt's very sweet and kind, and very talented. I've... I've never been anything but proud of him."

"I see," Dr. McNeil replied, jotting a note down in her note pad and looking at Carson curiously. "But yet, you don't seem to like to talk much about-"

"Look, I'm only here because I have terrible fucking anxiety attacks that literally cripple my ability to live like a normal person, and maybe instead of asking me pointless questions, you should be, you know, trying to help me with my actual problem," Carson snapped. "They're so bad that every time I know it's going to rain, I don't even bother getting out of bed. Because I know that once it starts, I'm going to be a shaking mess in the nearest corner, embarrassing the fuck out of myself. If it rains while I'm already out? Forget it. I feel like my heart is going to actually explode out of my chest. And it would be really fucking awesome to not have to worry about this happening. That's where _you_ come in. So, can you help me or not? Because if not, I'll just go and we'll call this a horrifically failed experiment and call it a day."

Dr. McNeil hadn't said much after that outburst, but she _had_ dropped the subject of Kurt, and two hours later Carson was letting himself back into his apartment, clutching a small paper bag in his hand which contained the bottle of prescription anxiety medication he had picked up at the pharmacy on his way home.

_Here's hoping this wasn't a colossal waste of my time_, he thought as he bypassed the kitchen, not in the mood to eat. He changed into his pajamas and scurried between his sheets, grabbing at his Kurt pillow and hugging it close as he thought miserably about how he was expected to keep up with seeing Dr. McNeil once a week for the foreseeable future to monitor his progress with his anxiety treatment. He couldn't think of anything he would rather do less.

His heard his phone vibrating from its spot on the night table and he heaved a sigh as he picked it up, bringing it to his face and reading the message that was coming through.

_**Rachel brought home pizza for dinner. It was pepperoni.I thought of you. Good night, Carsey. I love you. -Kurtsie**_

Carson carefully placed the phone back on the table, wiping away the single tear that had fallen down his cheek as he was reading the text. He buried his face into the pillow and took a deep inhale.

_To answer your question, doc, I don't talk much about Kurt because I love him so much that I'm afraid if I think too hard about how I can't be with him anymore, my heart will shatter into a million pieces and then there'll be no helping or saving me._

_I love you too, Kurtsie. Good night._

* * *

As another two weeks went by with no contact from Carson, Kurt reluctantly tried to settle himself into a daily routine that involved as little dwelling on his misery and loneliness as possible. After all, it had been almost a month now since the breakup. _Breakup_. The very word made Kurt's stomach turn and left a bad taste in his mouth when he tried to say it out loud. It just didn't feel right. Dating Carson had felt right. It had felt like it was supposed to be. Being apart from him, with his twin ignoring him and refusing even to reply back to his text messages, felt wrong. It felt very, _very_ wrong. But he still continued to send Carson texts every morning and every night, always hoping for even a small reply, even if it was just a smiley face, but he never got one. And it hurt so badly that if Kurt actually took the time to think about how much his entire life had fallen apart, he feared that the unbearable ache in the pit of his stomach would probably end up killing him.

So he threw himself once again into work and school, trying his best to focus on the tasks assigned to him and not on how alone and depressed he felt. Not only was he without his twin, he was without pretty much anybody at the moment. Rachel was always off somewhere with Brody, or otherwise not at home. She pretty much ignored him at school, and he had no other friends in New York to take his mind off of his problems.

So it was much easier said than done when it came to forgetting about his breakup, since almost everything reminded him of Carson. He supposed that it didn't really help matters that he had taken to wearing one of Carson's forgotten blue hoodies to his classes at NYADA, but he couldn't help it. It had become almost like a security blanket of sorts, every once in a while releasing a wave of Carson's familiar scent to fill Kurt's senses and provide him with just a little bit of the comfort he had been missing. It was also a curse, though, because every reminder of Carson was a reminder that Kurt was alone now.

_Maybe you should join a club_, he thought to himself one day as he wandered around the halls of NYADA, looking at all the posted ads for the various clubs the school offered. Maybe a club would help fill some of the empty hours he wasn't spending at work or school. The hours in which the ache of missing Carson usually hit him the hardest and made him want to curl up in bed and never come out. _It wouldn't hurt you to try, you know. It would be better than sitting at home dwelling on how miserable you are and feeling sorry for yourself. Or sitting in front of your laptop for hours at a time, waiting for Carson to sign onto Skype. He never does, and all it does it make you want to throw up when another day goes by that you don't get to see him or talk to him._

He sighed and listlessly looked over the various club postings and notices, only barely taking in what they said. _Let's see... the Elizabethan Society? The Grand Guignol Club? The Tennessee Williams Play Reading Group?_ He shook his head to himself in frustration and sighed. None of those were right. His gaze flicked up to a colorful poster above the Tennessee Williams one. "Adams Apples," it proclaimed in a graphic meant to look like an apple and an open mouth at the same time. "Monday, 8pm, Auditorium 2."

"What's Adam's Apples?" he mused to himself, looking curiously at the poster. There was a silhouette of someone holding a microphone on the poster, too. Maybe it was a glee club. _A glee club would be exactly what I need_, he thought, still staring at the poster with a spark of interest.

"NYADA show choir," a bright, British accented voice behind him said, and Kurt turned to see a guy walking up to him, placing himself by his side and smiling. "It's super fun. You're thinking about signing up, aren't you?"

"Oh, um... maybe..." Kurt replied, bewildered. It wasn't like he had decided already or anything. He was just keeping his options open. Then again, a glee club and the work involved in that would surely be a good distraction from how much he missed his twin. "And you are...?"

"Adam," the guy replied, the smile never leaving his face. "A senior, and founder and fearless leader of the Adam's Apples," he continued, indicating the poster. "The group you're very seriously considering joining."

_You're awfully presumptuous,_ Kurt thought to himself. "I'm Kurt," he said, awkwardly offering his hand to Adam, who took it and eagerly began shaking it.

"Kurt Hummel," he said, surprising Kurt. "Your Winter Showcase performance was breathtaking. And you're wondering where you fit in, and how can college be so much like high school, and you _want_ to join my group, but you're wondering if this is a step backwards, and no, I'm not a mind reader. I'm just astute like you. We need you. We want you."

Kurt blinked at him, trying to understand what the hell was happening here, exactly. He wondered what Adam would say if he knew that his assumptions about Kurt were entirely wrong, because the only reason he was even considering joining the club was to get over Carson. He doubted that "_Actually, I'm considering joining your group because I'm still in love with my twin brother, with whom I had a perfect summer romance that just disintegrated and blew away like dandelion dust, and I need a distraction or I will literally die of a broken heart, but your energy is kind of making me uncomfortable, so...bye"_ would go over very well, so he just gave the guy an awkward smile.

"Well, I'm very impressed that you said all of that in one breath, but I don't think I'll be joining," he said, beginning to walk away.

"Hard seller," said Adam, following him, "I respect that. But I'm not willing to go down without a fight. Come hear us sing. No strings attached. No secret time share condo scheme. Just our voices and your ears."

Kurt sighed. "Fine," he agreed dejectedly, allowing Adam to lead him out of the building and into a separate building that housed an auditorium and a stage, on which stood about a dozen people whom Kurt assumed made up the Adam's Apples group. He sat and watched as Adam ran up to the stage and joined the group, which launched into an interesting acoustic performance of _Baby Got Back. _He smiled and nodded in all the right places, but all the song really did was depress him more as he remembered that his ass used to be Carson's favorite body part. Not to mention that he couldn't stop thinking about what Carson would have to say about the very existence of an acoustic version of _Baby Got Back_. He probably would have been speechless and then come up with some witty, biting comment. _I miss you, Carsey._

"Thanks," he told Adam after the song had finished. "I'll um... I'll think about it. Ok?"

"Ok," Adam replied with a grin. "We'll eagerly await your decision."

_Yeah, whatever_, Kurt thought as he trudged out of the auditorium and made his way back to the apartment. He let himself in and discovered that he was alone. Again. Rachel was probably out with Brody, who was, no doubt, probably shirtless, so Kurt had the apartment to himself. He tiredly changed into pajamas and made himself some tea before settling down on the couch with his laptop, signing into Skype out of habit. He usually tried to sign in during the time that he and Carson usually had their chats before the breakup (there was that word again... _breakup_), just in case Carson had changed his mind and wanted to talk to him now. He never was online, but... Kurt supposed it couldn't hurt just to make sure.

He waited for four hours, keeping the Skype window open while he fooled around aimlessly on various online game websites, playing Solitaire and search-and-find games and checking every couple of minutes to see if Carson had signed on. He hadn't. Kurt eventually sighed heavily and closed his computer, taking his tea mug into the kitchen and rinsing it out before shuffling to his bedroom and climbing under the covers.

He wondered again what would happen if he just hopped a plane to Chicago. If he showed up at Carson's apartment door and knocked on it and demanded to be let in. If he refused to leave until Carson, his twin, the love of his life and the man whom he had been so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with... until Carson acknowledged him and gave him a reason why he didn't want to be together anymore. This wasn't fair. Didn't Carson know that this was unusually cruel? To show him the greatest love he'd ever known and then just snatch it away with no warning and no explanation?

_Why would he do that to me?_ he thought, letting tears spill out of his eyes and onto his pillow. _Why? I realize that he doesn't... that he doesn't WANT me anymore, but... couldn't he have at least told me why? I just want to know why._

He imagined getting to Chicago and asking Carson why. He imagined standing there, waiting for a response, and he imagined Carson breaking down and saying that he was sorry, that he'd made a mistake, that of course he wanted Kurt and would Kurt please forgive him? Kurt smiled to himself through his tears. Of course he would. He would forgive Carson and they would find a way to make a long distance relationship work, if Carson really wanted to finish at Northwestern.

And then his smile disappeared as he imagined asking the same question, but with Carson telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he didn't love Kurt anymore and he didn't want to be with him, and "Kurtsie, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're going to have to leave." Kurt bit his lip to try to stem the fresh flow of tears that erupted from his eyes at the thought, but it didn't do any good. He rolled over and cried, grabbing hold of Carsey Teddy and cuddling it close to his chest.

_I can't go to him. I just... I can't risk him actually TELLING me that it's over to my face. I can't handle that._

_But WHY, Carsey?_

He sighed and reached for his phone, opening his messages and typing up the familiar words he knew so well by this point.

_**Good night, Carsey. Sleep tight. I love you. -Kurtsie**_

He shut his phone off and plugged it into the charger next to his bed before getting out and crossing quietly over to the trunk at the foot of the bed, even though nobody was home and he didn't really have a need to be quiet. He opened the trunk carefully and moved aside the pile of junk that was hiding the real reason for the trunk, which was the long pillow sporting an arm that he had ordered online one night a couple of weeks after Carson had broken up with him. It was called a Boyfriend Pillow, or so the website said, and had arrived wearing an ugly polyester shirt that Kurt had quickly replaced with one of Carson's T-shirts that he'd found stuffed in the corner of the closet. He didn't use the pillow all the time. Just on the nights when he was at his loneliest and _really_ needed somebody to hold him. Tonight was one of those nights.

He dragged the pillow out of the trunk and carried it into bed with him, settling himself under the covers with it and positioning the arm over his shoulder as close as possible to the way Carson used to hold him. It definitely wasn't the same. Not by a long shot. But it was firm and it smelled like Carson, and it would have to do. He rested his head on the pillow, trying to ignore the feel of cotton and imagine that it was Carson's chest that he was laying on. That it was Carson's arm around him and Carson's hand that Kurt was running his fingers across at the moment. He could have sworn he heard someone whisper "I love you, Kurtsie" in his ear, but of course he hadn't.

_It must have been the wind_, he thought as he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

Carson wasn't sure how Kurt was coping with the breakup, but he himself was a goddamn mess. He had thought that therapy and taking medication for his anxiety attacks would have lessened some of the pain by now, but they really hadn't. On the contrary, his debilitating sadness actually seemed to be getting _worse_, if that was even possible. He barely had the energy to eat or even to get out of bed at all most days, and he had to actually force himself to go to class or to his therapy appointments.

He tried his best to disguise his state of mind from Dr. McNeil, because he just _knew_ that she would try to put him on antidepressants, and to him that would be admitting defeat. _I'm not fucking depressed_, he thought bitterly to himself after every appointment, when Dr. McNeil would ask him a barrage of questions about his life and how he spent his time and whether he had a normal appetite."I'm _fine_," he would inevitably snap at her. "I'm fine, I just... I thought the pills you gave me were supposed to be helping my anxiety. They barely help at all. I still feel like I'm going to fucking die every time there's a drizzle."

And then she would ask him about Kurt. What they were like as kids, how they had gotten along in high school, whether they both had good relationships with their parents and what their friendships were like. The same questions, over and over and over again. Frankly, Carson was sick to death of trying to find ways to answer them without saying "Hey, I was a social freak whose only close friend was my twin brother, and oh, did I mention that I've been in love with him my whole life?" So he always answered the same way, with minimalistic, monotone, one or two word answers. "Yes." "No." "I guess."

"Carson, have you ever been in a relationship?" Dr. McNeil had asked him one day, catching Carson completely off guard as he choked on his own spit and fiddled determinedly with his hoodie zipper. How the fuck was he supposed to answer that? Somehow he didn't think Dr. McNeil would be all that impressed by _"Yes, just one. I've been in love with Kurt my entire life, you see, and it turned out that he returned some of the same feelings, and this summer we kissed and we walked in the park and we made love so many times, and did you know that he has exactly sixteen freckles on his nose? His cute little upturned nose that crinkles just so when he laughs and it's the most adorable thing ever, right behind his dimples and the way his eyes light up when he sees a sale at the mall. Or when he sees lilacs. Or when he sees a set of swings and runs over to them like an excited little kid, and you can't help but give him a push and then lean around and kiss him because he's just so perfect, the moment is so perfect, that you literally can't control yourself."_

No, he was definitely sure that she wouldn't think very much of him if he said that, so what he ended up saying was "I almost slept with someone at a party once."

She hadn't seemed overly impressed with that answer, either. But she had upped his dosage of anxiety meds and suggested that perhaps he should try putting himself out there and making a friend.

_Yeah, right. Sure. I'll just get right on that, honey. I'm sure everyone is just falling all over themselves to be best friends with the weird freak. Yes, they all want to be seen with Lightning Boy. They're just beside themselves with joy at the idea._

The only good part of his day was in the morning and in the evening, when he could always count on a text message from Kurt. He wished with all he had in him that he could just reply. That, even better, he could pick up the phone and say "Kurt, I miss you so much and I'm sorry I broke up with you, and can we never be apart again?"

But he knew he couldn't. And quite frankly, he was finding it harder and harder to remind himself that it was for the best. The best for Kurt, maybe. But not for him. That was the hardest part. Knowing that he would never be truly happy anymore.

_As long as Kurt is happy_, he reminded himself stubbornly. _As long as he's ok and he's free, that's all that matters._

Carson wondered where that left him, exactly.

* * *

Slowly but surely, even though he had been sure it would never happen, Kurt was beginning to pick up the shattered pieces of his heart and move on. It was certainly a process, but it was happening. It was little things, at first. Only signing onto Skype for half the hours he used to. Allowing himself to laugh at things he found funny on television or on the internet. Joining the Adam's Apples and being so exhausted after a practice that he was able to go right to sleep instead of taking a sleeping pill or laying awake for hours wondering why he'd apparently been cursed to never be allowed to have true love.

Eventually, he even caught himself actually concentrating at Vogue and in his classes, going hours at a time without thinking of Carson. He wasn't sure if that made it easier on him or worse, since without fail, the moment he realized that he hadn't thought about Carson for several hours, he would suddenly be bombarded with feelings and have to excuse himself to the nearest bathroom or quiet corner and shed a few tears.

It still hurt, though. Very much so. It just didn't hit him now until very late at night sometimes, when the apartment was silent and he was laying awake in bed, his boyfriend pillow around his shoulder and Carsey Teddy clutched tight to his chest. That was when the tears would come, and now that he wasn't crying so many on a daily basis, they seemed to be stored up in bulk for those moments when he _did_ cry. He would sob himself to sleep on those nights, his face buried in the T-shirt attached to his boyfriend pillow and his heart hurting as though someone were squeezing it.

Rachel wasn't helping matters. She had apparently sensed, from the time of the breakup, that Kurt was vulnerable and not nearly as much in the mood to fight with her as usual, because she seemed to have all but turned him into her personal doormat, and in the middle of the effort he was putting into healing his heart, he hadn't really had the energy to resist. She just walked all over him. She invited Brody to move in without consulting Kurt. Kurt shrugged it off. _I guess that's fair. Carson did live with us for a... for a long time. _She ordered him around, and he took it. She refused to clean up after herself, and he shrugged and cleaned her messes for her. He wondered one morning what Carson would have to say about it if he were here and was able to hear her screeching singing (an entire hour before Kurt even had to be up, at that). Nothing flattering, that was for sure.

"Oh hey, you're awake!" she chirped as Kurt stalked out of his room, fully dressed. He'd had a rough night of crying and being unable to sleep much as it was, and he was in no mood to deal with her right now.

"A whole hour before my alarm clock," he muttered as he walked past her and into the kitchen.

"Hey, when you're in there, can you make me a little tea, please?" she asked brightly. "With some honey and lemon? You know it's good for my throat."

Kurt slammed the teapot down on the stove angrily. "Sure," he spat. "I'll just run down to the store and get you some," he said sarcastically. _Seriously, it is NOT my fucking job to make sure she has tea. If she wants it she can get it herself._

"I'll take that as a no," Rachel said irritably, her hands coming up to rest on her hips as she glared at him. He glared right back at her.

"An incredibly _rude_ no that deserves an explanation," she continued, stalking over to him with a pissed off expression on her face. "You're turning into your brother, you know that?"

Ok, that was it. Kurt couldn't take it anymore. He snapped and turned to face her, ready to let her have it.

"Ok, Rachel, truth time," he said, seriously having to hold himself back from punching her in the face. "You have been a nightmare ever since the Winter Showcase." _Actually, you've been a fucking nightmare ever since I've known you and I have no idea why I still continue to tolerate you, but let's start with this._

"I knew it!" Rachel crowed triumphantly. "It was only a matter of time before you became jealous of all my success. And just when we were getting inseparable!"

_Inseparable? Is she fucking KIDDING ME? You don't know the goddamn meaning of inseparable, honey. Carson and me. WE were inseparable._ "We became close because you became tolerable," Kurt retorted. _Just fucking BARELY, but still. _"And now you have that weird naked boyfriend and that weird legion of sycophants. Now you're like a... a... an annoying, self righteous Lima Rachel on steroids!"

"Ok, let me give _you_ a little bit of truth, Kurt, ok?" said Rachel, beginning to make her own tea. "The only reason that Carmen Thibadeaux even let you sing at the Winter Showcase was because she knew that you and I are friends."

"You might have won the showcase, but _my_ performance was the one that everyone was talking about," Kurt replied, beginning to sort of enjoy himself. If nothing else, taking his frustrations out on Rachel was proving to be very therapeutic. "Because I. Blew. You. Away. And I could do it again. Midnight Madness. You and me. Head to head," he continued, referring to the NYADA equivalent of a fight club, which involved a sing-off instead of any actual fighting.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, babe," said Rachel haughtily.

"Oooh, why not?" Kurt whispered in a mock fearful whisper.

"Because I already beat you once," replied Rachel sweetly with a smile on her face. "Diva-Off. Sophomore year. Remember?"

"Only because I threw it," Kurt replied cooly. "That high F in "Defying Gravity?" I could hit that baby in my sleep. I tanked the note on purpose."

"Ok, why would you do that?" asked Rachel.

"Because I didn't want to win," said Kurt. "I wanted to save my dad the embarrassment of having a son sing a song that was written for a woman. And you know what, Carson was absolutely right. I never should have thrown it on purpose. I _deserved_ that win, and you didn't."

Rachel gaped at him for a second in disbelief. "I don't believe you. Take that back."

"I can't. It's truth time," replied Kurt.

"That was my first big win!" Rachel screeched angrily. "That was the foundation that I built all my confidence on for the last two years!"

"Consider it cracked. Get ready for Diva-Off, Part Two. And this time, I'm not throwing anything," he said, leaning in close to her face to make sure she got the message. "Enjoy your tea."

_Carsey, you would have been proud of me_, he thought bittersweetly as he stalked past Rachel and went back to his room to collect his school bag, leaving her speechless in the kitchen. _So, so proud._

_If only you would talk to me._

_I still miss you, honey._

* * *

In hindsight, Carson thought, he probably should have just stayed off of Facebook. He had been doing well with that, actually. He hadn't visited the site for almost the entire time that he and Kurt had been broken up, mostly because he was scared of what he would find if he did go on there. Kurt was still his Facebook friend, after all, and anything he posted was going to be right there in Carson's newsfeed waiting to taunt him with visions of Kurt's full life without him in it.

He couldn't help it, though. He just missed his twin so much. He didn't even have daily texts to look forward to anymore, because Kurt had stopped sending them every day. The first night it happened, Carson thought that maybe Kurt had just fallen asleep. Surely he would get a text in the morning, possibly one apologizing for the missed one, because it was Kurt. But then the next morning came, and there wasn't a text then, either. Or that evening. Or all day the next day. Carson went two days without receiving one, in fact. Kurt had sent one the next morning, but they never returned to their twice daily regularity again, and that hurt Carson more than he could possibly say. _Well, what do you expect, asshole? You've been ignoring his texts for HOW long now? Did you really think that he was going to keep sending them to you every day when he wasn't getting any response? You're lucky you even got the ones you got. Shut the fuck up and be happy. This means he's gotten over you. Or is starting to. Congratulations. You got what you wanted._

He squashed the little voice inside of him that was trying to say _Yes. I knew he wouldn't keep sending them forever, but... they were my last piece of him. I wasn't ready to lose that piece yet. I'm still not ready._

So he checked Facebook one morning. Just a for a few minutes, he told himself. He would just pop in and see what Kurt was up to. Make sure he was happy. Make sure that he, Carson, hadn't been suffering for no reason. And then he would turn the computer off, he told himself.

He logged on and went straight to Kurt's profile, perusing the postings there. He expected to see a lot from Blaine, had been mentally preparing himself for this, in fact, but to his surprise and relief, there weren't any. Not since the skating rink photo at Christmas. There were barely any postings from anyone, not even Kurt himself. Carson guessed that maybe his twin had simply been too busy with work and college to post very much. He scrolled back up the feed, his eyes catching on a video that Rachel had uploaded and tagged Kurt in called "Bring Him Home- Midnight Madness 2013." He clicked the play button and sat back, his breath catching in his throat as Kurt filled the screen and began to sing a song that Carson vaguely recognized to be from _Les Miserables._

_Oh god... he's so beautiful_, Carson thought, choking back tears as he turned his speakers all the way up and watched his twin sing in front of a modest crowd that he could see included Rachel and Brody. It had been so long since he had looked at Kurt's face, much less heard his voice. He looked so solemn as he sang, the words echoing throughout the performance space he was in. So emotional, like he was about to cry.

_No, Kurtsie... please don't cry, baby. It's ok. You're singing so beautifully._

Carson cried throughout the entire performance, rewinding it four times to see it again and again. He couldn't get enough. Kurt's voice was like a drug to him, and he had been so long without it. _I miss him. I miss him so much._

He glanced down at the comments below the video, most of which were short and along the lines of "Congratulations, Hummel!" or "You go!" There was one particularly long comment from a guy called Adam Crawford, which added an entire paragraph about Kurt's wonderful voice and an observation about his "Bright baby blue eyes." Carson felt a lead weight in the pit of his stomach as he read the comment. He wondered if this Adam guy was special to Kurt. He felt the jealous urge to scream "NO! He's _mine_!" and yet at the same time he was so relieved that it wasn't Blaine. He didn't know what to do.

"He's supposed to be mine," he whispered quietly into the silent, empty room. "He's _my_ Kurtsie. Nobody loves him like I do."

He wondered what would happen if he were to call Kurt right now. He wondered if Kurt would even want to speak to him, considering the way their last conversation had gone.

He wondered what was stopping him from finding out.

It took him forty-five minutes to work up the courage to even leave his laptop to go retrieve his phone, but he did it. He had just settled down and searched for Kurt in his contacts when he heard it begin to drizzle outside and felt the telltale pull in the middle of his chest.

_Ignore it. Fucking ignore it. You're going to call Kurt for the first time in forever. Please don't panic, just... fuck, work with me, here._ He took a deep breath and hovered his thumb above the button to place the call. Just one press, and he would hear Kurt's voice again. Over the phone. Directed at him. And it would feel so...

_CRACK!_

The thunder boomed outside, and Carson was so startled that he dropped his phone on the floor as he stumbled across the apartment, wheezing and clutching his chest while he looked for his bottle of anxiety pills. He located them and shakily shook one out into his hand. He swallowed it quickly, washing it down with a glass of water and waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal.

_Thanks for the fucking reminder, Mother Nature,_ he thought. _You bitch. I know, I know, I'm sorry. I should have remembered. This was the whole reason I broke up with Kurt in the first place. So that he doesn't have to deal with me like this. I know, I should be happy that he's moving on without me. I should be happy that some guy who isn't Binney is giving him compliments. I should be happy. This is what I wanted._

_I should be happy._

_Why can't I ever be happy?_

* * *

_What the fuck am I doing here?_ Carson wondered to himself as he walked through the halls of the animal shelter, following the young girl who was showing him around. _I can barely take care of MYSELF._

He hadn't actually expected to take Dr. McNeil's advice that she had given him on his last appointment. Never in a million years, when she had suggested that perhaps a partial cure for his chronic loneliness could be to get a pet, would he have actually expected himself to listen to her. For one thing, he vehemently insisted that no, he was _not_ lonely. He wasn't lonely at all, he told her fiercely. He was just a loner kind of guy. That was who he was.

"Well, Carson, this is just some advice, but I think that maybe the reason your anxiety doesn't leave you alone is because you have nothing to distract yourself from it," Dr. McNeil said gently. "Now, you do seem to have difficulty being around people, so perhaps a pet would be a practical solution for you. Maybe a dog, hmm? Even a cat. A cat would probably be better, actually, since you live in an apartment."

"Doc, I can barely keep _myself_ alive, what the fuck am I supposed to do with a pet?" Carson asked.

But the more Carson considered it (and not that he would ever admit this to his doctor), the more it actually seemed like sort of a good idea. He really didn't have anything to distract himself from his never ending misery. Maybe a pet would be a good idea. Taking care of someone else could be just the thing he needed.

Which was why he was now following the young female animal shelter volunteer through a maze of hallways, on his way to the dogs. He'd thought a dog would be better than a cat, since in his opinion, cats were sort of assholes, and he was already asshole enough. He didn't need another in his life. He peeked his head through the various doors as he followed the girl, his attention caught by one room in particular, which was full of kittens.

"Hey... wait," he said to the girl, stopping in his tracks and not entirely sure why. He didn't even want a cat, much less a kitten, but... something inside him was telling him to stop and take a look. "Can... can I have a look at the kittens really quick?"

"Sure," the girl replied, leading him into the kitten room and waving her hand around. "We don't have very many at the moment, actually, but we have some tabbys over there, and then we have a couple of kittens in there," she continued, pointing to a box in the corner of the room. "They were orphaned and one of our volunteers found them in the street. Barely even two weeks old. We've been bottle feeding them and caring for them ever since they were brought in a couple of days ago, but we're pretty short-staffed right now and it's been a challenge..."

Carson tuned her out, walking toward the box and peering inside curiously. There were two ginger colored kittens in there, one sleeping and one walking around awkwardly on his shaky little legs. The walking one, who was slightly smaller than his sibling, looked briefly at Carson, letting out a "Meow" so soft that Carson could barely hear it. His eyes startled Carson. He didn't know that cats could have eyes so big and blue, especially a tiny little kitten like that.

"Can I... can I hold that one?" he asked the girl, pointing to the alert kitten hopefully. She nodded and carefully lifted the kitten out of the box, handing him to Carson with a smile. Carson had to hold himself back from gasping as the kitten was placed into his hand. Literally his _hand_, because he was so tiny that he could easily curl up in one of Carson's hands with room to spare.

"The vet thinks this one has some kind of genetic mutation," the girl informed him. "He won't grow much beyond kitten size, but he'll still be proportionate."

"Hey, little guy," Carson cooed at it, stroking the kitten's head with the pad of one finger. "You're kind of adorable, you know that?" He stared in awe at the kitten's eyes, which really _were_ very blue indeed. "Your eyes remind me of my Kurtsie's eyes," he whispered to the kitten softly. "Actually, I would name you Kurtsie, I think. Kurtsie Kitty."

The kitten meowed at him and pawed at his thumb in response, and Carson smiled. "You'd like being called Kurtsie Kitty, wouldn't you, little guy?"

Carson forgot all about wanting a dog. He didn't want one anymore. He wanted this kitten in his hand, the one whose eyes reminded him so much of Kurt. The one who didn't have a mother and had a hard time getting around. The one who would never be a "normal" cat by any type of "normal" cat standard. Carson could relate to all of those things. He _had_ to have that cat. He felt drawn to him, like he had been meant specifically to have him and take care of him.

"I'll take him," he said determinedly. It was a struggle, because the kitten was so young and was being hand raised by the shelter, but with enough cajoling, Carson was finally able to convince him that he was certainly up to the challenge of keeping the kitten alive and thriving. He'd do what he had to do, he decided, but that kitten was going to be his.

So, after a several hours long debriefing by shelter staff members on how to properly care for the tiny, fragile life, he found himself entering his apartment not nearly as empty handed as he had been when he left that morning. In his hands, he held a box that contained Kurtsie Kitty and the several layers of blankets that he had been accustomed to sleeping on at the shelter. In his messenger bag, he carried the supplies that the shelter had given to him along with his new kitten in order to properly care for him. Three kitten feeding bottles and nipples, a small supply of formula that he would have to replenish in a few days, a heating pad for underneath Kurtsie Kitty's box, and a box of latex gloves. He set Kurtsie Kitty's box down on his kitchen table and set about putting away all the supplies so that they would be within easy reach when he needed them. He carefully mixed some formula into a bottle as per the carefully written instructions from the shelter and took Kurtsie Kitty out of his box and warming him up for his first official feeding.

"Here, little guy. Time to eat," Carson said softly, settling Kurtsie Kitty on his stomach in his lap and gently prodding the bottle nipple into his little mouth. "Hungry little thing, aren't you?" he said with a smile as Kurtsie Kitty went to town, eating his fill before finally rejecting the nipple. "And messy," he added when he saw the mess of milk all over the kitten's face. He gently patted the kitten's tiny back until he burped, and then scooped him up carefully into his hands.

"You know, little guy, your eyes really do remind me of Kurt's," he said quietly, stroking Kurtsie Kitty's back with his finger. "And you're adorable, just like him."

The kitten meowed and blinked at him.

"Of course, you don't know who Kurt is, but... well... he looks kind of like me. But more beautiful, you see. And smarter. And more talented. Well... better than me in every way, I guess. I miss him so much. You'd be much better off with him. But I'm going to try to do my very best to make sure that you're healthy and happy, ok? I feel like kind of a sappy shit saying this, but I already love you like you were my own baby. Which is weird, because I've never really loved anything before, or anyone, besides Kurt. I've always loved him. Even if I know that he'll never love me back in the same way, I still love him. And will always. I just... I wish there was a way to tell him that, you know? To really make him understand that he'll always have a place in my heart, no matter what. Ah, but you don't care about that stuff. You're just a cat. And an adorable one, too."

He gently brought Kurtsie Kitty up to his cheek and stroked him against it. The kitten's fur was soft and tickled his skin, and Carson let out a strangled giggle.

"Such a softy. Literally," he cooed at the kitten. "But if you tell anyone I giggled, you'll pay."

He was so busy playing with Kurtsie Kitty that he was only slightly bothered when he realized that it had been another whole day and a half since he had received a text message from Kurt.


	33. Chapter 33

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here we go, new chapter! It's quite angsty, but, well... you knew that, didn't you? ;) Rest assured, there's light at the end of the tunnel, so bear with us a bit longer. We love you all and we love all your comments and reviews. Really, you're what keeps us going, so THANK YOU ^_^**

**Now, let's read.**

It was weird, Kurt thought, how much he had gotten over never seeing or talking to Carson anymore. The intense pain in his heart had slowly but surely settled into a dull ache, and he found that he was able to function more or less normally now. At least, he _thought_ that was true. Sure, he still cried when he woke up in the middle of the night, burying his face in the fabric of his boyfriend pillow and inhaling Carson's familiar scent. Sure, his heart gave a little hopeful leap every time he saw a guy on the street wearing a blue hoodie, only to crash, disappointed, back down to earth when he realized that no, it wasn't Carson. Sure, he had almost completely stopped texting Carson every day because every ignored message was a fresh wound on his heart. And sure, he had yelled at Rachel to leave him alone when she insisted on asking him why he wasn't taking the opportunity to date Adam, but that didn't mean that he wasn't recovering, right?

"Kurt, he's handsome and British and he's, like, super in love with you," she'd insisted one morning as she put on her makeup in the bathroom mirror while Kurt brushed his teeth. "I don't understand why you're not taking advantage of this. I would, if I were you."

"God, Rachel, will you just leave me the hell alone?" Kurt snapped, aggressively spitting his toothpaste into the sink and reinserting his brush into his mouth to attack his teeth with frustration. "I know he likes me, ok? I'm not a complete idiot. I'm just... I'm not interested. Not in _that_ kind of relationship."

Rachel rolled her eyes as she uncapped her lipstick. "Jesus, Kurt, are you still _that_ hung up on Blaine? It's been a long time. Get over him and move on. He's a cheater and never deserved you anyway. And, if I may say so, I know from experience that he wasn't that great of a kisser."

Kurt spit into the sink one more time and carefully placed his toothbrush back into its holder. "Why don't you butt out of my love life, Rachel?" he said sullenly. "You don't understand shit, so just butt out and worry about your own relationship with that weird naked boyfriend of yours, ok?"

Of course he knew that Adam was interested in him. It was kind of hard to miss, what with the way the older guy was constantly showering him with compliments, many of which were about his eyes, or his "breathtaking" singing voice, as Adam called it. And Kurt hadn't missed the slight blush that crept across Adam's face whenever he complimented Kurt's dance technique. Under ordinary circumstances, in an ordinary universe in which he was an ordinary person, Kurt had to admit that he probably would have gone for it. Adam was cute and sweet and had an excellent sense of humor, after all, and who wouldn't want to give that a chance?

But Kurt wasn't ordinary, and this wasn't an ordinary universe with ordinary circumstances. This was the universe where Kurt was still hopelessly in love with his twin brother. This was the universe where he and Carson had shared and been through so much together, and where Carson had just broken up with him without warning or satisfactory explanation. This was the universe where Kurt's heart was still hurting, even if it was getting less and less excruciatingly painful with each passing day, and where he had no outlet to express his feelings and had to just let everyone assume that he was depressed over Blaine, of all people. This was a universe where Kurt's heart might never stop hurting completely. Not enough to fully move on. So therefore, this was the universe where he kept Adam at a safe, friendly distance and made sure that it was clear that he wasn't interested in anything more than platonic friendship.

The fact that Santana was now living in the Bushwick loft with him, Rachel, and Brody wasn't exactly helping. She had just shown up one day out of the blue, knocking on the apartment door and announcing that she was moving in as soon as Kurt opened it.

"What the hell do you mean, you're moving in?" Rachel had asked sharply as Kurt gaped incredulously, at a loss for words.

"Are you going deaf from all your caterwauling in your singing classes, Berry?" Santana asked with a roll of her eyes as she dropped her suitcase on the ground and looked around the apartment curiously. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm here in New York now, and I'm moving in with you. And let me tell you, you'll be lucky to have me. I keep it real and I tell it like it is. And my first order of business is to tell you that you're wearing entirely too much makeup and maybe you should stop applying it with a butter knife."

Kurt covered up his snort with a cough as Rachel glared at Santana with crossed arms. "You can't just move in," she said haughtily.

"Why not?" Kurt asked. "You invited Naked Boy to live here without asking me."

"Yeah, and your jerk of a brother lived here with us for months and no one consulted _me_," Rachel retorted. "So I think we're even."

"Where else is she going to go?" Kurt pressed, wanting to drop the subject of Carson as quickly as possible, even though he was just itching to punch Rachel in the face. "Come on. She's our friend and I assume she's homeless at the moment." He wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue so hard, or why he even cared whether or not Santana had anywhere to go, but he did and he was.

Rachel sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Whatever."

"Great," said Santana with a grin. "Guess I'll just go scope out which corner of dirt and grime I prefer to use as my bedroom."

In hindsight, Kurt now regretted being quite so hasty in his insistence that Santana be allowed to stay, because not only did he never have any time alone to hear himself think anymore, but he could tell that she had definitely sensed that something wasn't right with his and Carson's relationship, although he was pretty sure that she didn't yet suspect that they were broken up.

"The hell have you been doing in bed all day?" she'd asked on Valentine's Day, which Kurt had indeed spent a good portion of in bed, pretending to be fighting a cold when he really was just so depressed and alone without Carson that he was sure he would die of sadness. "Shouldn't you be having hot Skype sex with your sweet twin lover?"

"Go away," Kurt muttered, his face buried in a pillow as he tried to sound sick.

"Do you know why he never answers my calls?" she pressed. "I keep trying to get up with him and see how he's doing, but he's being a total bitch and ignoring me. Is he ok? I mean, he's recovering from the lightning and stuff, right?"

"He's fine, Santana. I... I'm sure he's just busy. Can you just go away?" Kurt snapped, sounding a lot harsher than he meant to. "I just... my head really hurts today, ok?"

"Jeez, fine," Santana replied. "Whatever. You're a cranky sick person, you know that?"

"_Go away_!" Kurt exclaimed. _Like I know why he's ignoring you? I'm still trying to figure out why he's ignoring ME. What I could have possibly done wrong to make him hate me so much that he doesn't even want to act like my brother anymore. When you figure that out, why don't you tell me. Because I'd really love to know._

Ok, maybe he wasn't recovering as well as he thought he was.

* * *

While Kurt was dealing with the separation in his own way, Carson was dealing with it in his. Namely, he was so engrossed in his daily schedule of class work and taking care of Kurtsie Kitty that he barely had time to actually sit and focus on his anxiety, or his crippling depression, or on the fact that his heart was in shambles now that Kurt was no longer texting him daily. The care of Kurtsie Kitty alone was demanding much of his focus and concentration. The workers at the animal shelter hadn't been kidding when they explained to him that raising an orphaned kitten so young was an immense amount of work. Carson thanked his lucky stars that he had been on spring break when he got the kitten, because Kurtsie Kitty had needed to be fed and burped every two hours at first, almost like an actual human baby. And Carson was diligent with it. He had been trusted with that delicate little life, and damn it, if he did nothing else right, he was going to see to it that he didn't fuck _this_ up.

"You're such a bottomless pit," he was fond of crooning at Kurtsie Kitty at every feeding as he watched the tiny cat practically eat his own weight in formula. For such a small creature, he ate much more than Carson expected him to. "Where the fuck do you put it all?" he asked Kurtsie Kitty more than once as he tapped gently on the kitten's back to elicit a burp. "You must have one hell of a metabolism."

He had skipped the entire next week of classes, feigning illness in order to ensure that he was around to keep Kurtsie Kitty on his feeding schedule, since he didn't know anyone well enough to hand the reigns over to them for a few hours. He wasn't about to ask Mrs. Moore. She probably would have asked for some weird, kinky sex to compensate for her time. The only time he left the apartment was for his sessions with Dr. McNeil, at which, he thought, he was becoming quite an expert at pretending to be normal. Or at least, he hoped so. He doubted that Dr. McNeil actually bought into his act, but he was very careful to stick to his personal rules during each session. Only say what's necessary. Don't answer any questions about Kurt. Focus on Kurtsie Kitty and talk about him.

"Have you given any thought to what I've been suggesting?" Dr. McNeil asked during one particularly pushy session. "About calling your brother? You still haven't told me why you're not as close as you used to be."

Carson held himself back from rolling his eyes, although it was really very difficult. _Yeah, lady, I've thought about it alright. Even came close to it once, until it started fucking thundering out and I lost the nerve, because I suddenly remembered why it was that I broke up with him in the first place. Oh, did I mention that? That we used to be lovers? And that the entire reason we don't speak is because I have to keep him at a distance for his own good, because being involved with me... that isn't going to do him any favors. Because I'm basically a blight on the face of the world, and he can do better. I think he IS doing better. That Adam guy seems nice. I guess. At least he's not Blaine. Or me. The only thing I'm good for anymore is taking care of Kurtsie Kitty, and thank God for him, because otherwise I would spend whole days in bed and not care whether or not I wake up the next time I fall asleep._

"I've been too busy," he replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "My cat, you see. He takes up a lot of my focus."

"Yes, your cat. How is Chris doing?" she asked. He had told her he named the kitten Chris, the first name that had come to his mind when she had asked, because he didn't even want to know what she would say if he told her his real name. This way he was saved from having to talk about Kurt more.

"Ku... _Chris_... is doing great," he answered brightly. "He can really eat. He's almost up to normal kitten size, I think. Or he will be, soon. He's thriving."

"Good," replied Dr. McNeil. "I knew a pet would help alleviate some of your focus on your anxiety. Have you had an attack lately?"

"No, but then again, it hasn't rained lately," Carson replied dryly. "Talk to me when we have a freak thunderstorm. If I can even talk, that is. I might be too busy hiding under my covers with a racing heartbeat."

"Well, I..." Dr. McNeil started to say, but Carson cut her off.

"I should get going. It's almost time for K... for Chris' next feeding, and I don't want to be late," he said, getting up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "And besides, my session time is up. I'd love to stay and chat, but, you know. Responsibilities." He turned around and rushed out of the office before the doctor could protest and hurried home, where he let himself into his apartment and leaned against the door for a second to close his eyes and catch his breath. Kurtsie Kitty had apparently been waiting patiently for him, because Carson felt claws digging into the leg of his jeans as the kitten valiantly attempted to climb up him in greeting.

"Hey, little guy," he said sweetly, looking down and stifling a giggle when Kurtsie Kitty didn't quite have the strength required to make it much past Carson's knee before taking a clumsy tumble. "Miss me? You're probably hungry by now. Give me just a second, and then you can eat." He headed to the kitchen, getting out his supplies and preparing Kurtsie Kitty's food, adding a tiny bit of plain yogurt to the formula the way he had learned the kitten loved.

"Ok, bitty kitty, here we go," he said as he settled himself down on the couch and Kurtsie Kitty in his lap, wrapped in his special feeding blanket. He gently nudged the bottle nipple into the kitten's mouth and watched as Kurtsie Kitty eagerly sucked down his fill of formula.

"If I didn't know you weren't going to grow past a certain size, I would say you'd be a Godzilla Kitty pretty soon, with the amount you eat," Carson said, shaking his head fondly as Kurtsie Kitty finally had enough and rejected the nipple. "Seriously, do you have, like, an endless amount of room in that tummy of yours?" He gently tapped Kurtsie Kitty on the back until he burped before setting out to clean up. He put the formula away and carefully cleaned the bottle and nipple before heading off to his bedroom with a sigh, changing into his pajamas and climbing between the covers even though it was still only early afternoon. He heard the telltale scratching noise soon that indicated that Kurtsie Kitty was trying to climb up on the bed via his claws and the comforter.

"Come on, sweet boy," Carson said with a smile, leaning down and scooping Kurtsie Kitty up in his hand. The kitten had his own little bed that Carson had set up for him, but he had quickly learned that Kurtsie Kitty greatly preferred sleeping in Carson's. Specifically, he preferred sleeping on Carson's chest, which was where he was currently settling himself. Carson hadn't even bothered to insist that he sleep in his own bed. If he wanted Carson's chest to be his bed, then he could feel free to have it.

"You're a spoiled little kitty," he said softly, using the pad of one finger to softly pet at Kurtsie Kitty's head. "But you're cute, and I love you." He settled his head back against his pillows and sighed, wondering what Kurt was doing right now. He was probably in some class at NYADA, Carson guessed. Or maybe studying in the park with that Adam guy. Certainly he wasn't giving Carson a second thought. Which was good, right? That was what Carson wanted, wasn't it?

_Not really_, he thought with a sigh, focusing his eyes on the ball of ginger colored fluff resting on his chest. _I don't WANT this, but I know it's for everyone's own good._

_I hope._

* * *

He spent much of the next day eyeballs deep in books, trying to catch up on the remainder of the work he had to have done by the time he returned to classes on Monday. Kurtsie Kitty would be old enough by then to only be fed every eight hours, and there would be no need for Carson to be around all the time. He wondered if it was stupid of him to feel a pang of sadness at the thought, as though Kurtsie Kitty was his actual baby who was growing up and didn't need him anymore.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_ he mused as he tapped his pencil against his book. _Kurtsie Kitty is a CAT. He'll just be at the age where he doesn't need to be monitored constantly, that's all. He'll still need me. How about I stop being such a stupid asshole and focus on my schoolwork?_ He sighed and returned his focus to his book. Or tried to, anyway. It was sort of hard to concentrate when Kurtsie Kitty was using him as a giant climbing post at the moment, digging his claws into the sleeve of Carson's hoodie and climbing up him. He walked right along Carson's chest, losing his balance a bit and tumbling right onto the pages of the open textbook, where he looked up at him with an expression that Carson was pretty sure meant "Shut up, it's not funny."

"It's _kind _of funny, little guy," Carson said with amusement as he scooped Kurtsie Kitty up and plopped him back onto his chest. "But you can't stay on my book, ok? I need to study."

Kurtsie Kitty stayed put, curling up in a ball and making himself comfortable while Carson went back to his book. He became so absorbed in his studying that he almost didn't notice the beginning of the rain, the gentle drizzling of drops against his window completely escaping his attention. That is, until it began to pick up.

"Fuuuuuck," Carson whined, slamming his book closed and swiftly but gently removing Kurtsie Kitty from his chest as it began to tighten. "Shit, shit, shit..." He struggled to breathe, wishing that he had remembered to keep his bottle of anxiety pills by his bed. He'd _known_ that it was supposed to rain today, how could he be so stupid?

_Ok... you're ok... just breathe..._ he told himself as he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, fumbling desperately for the bottle he kept in the medicine cabinet. His fingers closed around it as his breath continued to shorten and his heart raced in his chest. _You're ok, it's just some fucking rain, it's just..._

The sudden sound of thunder caused him to drop the pill bottle and slump immediately to the floor, holding his hands over his ears and rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. "Stop... please stop," he pleaded to no one in a shaking voice. "Please." He let a few tears fall, grateful that no one was around to see them as he curled into himself. "Stooooop."

He felt something warm and rough sliding across his hand and he opened his eyes to see Kurtsie Kitty sitting next to him, licking delicately at his hand, as if trying to comfort him. "Oh god... I'm ok, little guy," he whispered, trying to convince himself as much as the cat that this was the truth. "I'll be ok." Actually, he _did_ feel slightly calmer as he sat back up. Kurtsie Kitty stopped licking him and climbed up into his lap as Carson shakily reached for his pill bottle, grasping it and quickly pouring a pill out into his hand, which he dry swallowed as he began softly petting the kitten.

"I'll be ok, kitty," he whispered, letting the soft fuzz of Kurtsie Kitty's fur under his fingers calm him down. "I hope. See, this is exactly why I can't be with the human Kurtsie anymore. Because he shouldn't have to deal with me like this. Actually, you shouldn't, either. But I guess since you're a cat you don't really understand these things anyway, so... I'm sorry, I have no idea what I'm even talking about. All I know is that if I keep talking, I know I'm still alive."

A second clap of thunder caused him to stop talking and scoop Kurtsie Kitty up into his hands, holding him up to his cheek and rubbing the soft fur against the skin there. "Take this life advice from me, Kurtsie Kitty. The rain sucks."

_And so do I._

* * *

Kurt gazed out the window, not really in the mood to pay attention to the television that was droning on in front of him. It had been a trying day so far. NYADA had cancelled all classes due to the unusually vicious rain storm raging outside, and that had left Kurt and Rachel (and Adam, who had come over early to consult with Kurt on costumes for a new Apples performance) stuck inside the loft with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Santana, who obviously couldn't go anywhere either, had spent the day so far pushing everyone's buttons, particularly Rachel's, and quite frankly, Kurt was sick to death of hearing them fight. Although, he supposed, it was better than dealing with her aggressively asking him questions about Carson.

She was definitely suspicious now that something was up, and it was partly his own fault. He'd had a sleepwalking episode several nights prior, which he'd been completely unaware was happening until he had been rudely awakened by a blood curdling scream coming from right next to him.

"Hummel, WHAT THE FUCK?" he'd heard as he let out his own startled scream and his eyes snapped open, slowly taking in the fact that he was not in bed, but sitting ramrod straight on the couch, next to Santana, who was the source of the screaming.

"I... what..." he mumbled stupidly, blinking and trying to wake up and simultaneously bring his heartbeat down from the quickened pace that all the screaming had caused it to reach.

"What do you mean, _what_? I fall asleep on the couch, I wake up, and you're just sitting there staring at me like some kind of freak," Santana said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "You scared the shit out of me. What, do you sleepwalk or something?"

"I... yeah, I do," he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When I'm really stressed, I just..."

"What the hell is all the screaming about?" asked Rachel, stomping angrily out into the living room with crossed arms. "Brody has an audition in the morning and you're going to wake him up if you don't shut up!"

"Oh, heaven forbid we wake precious Brody," Santana replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Go back to bed, Berry, everything's fine."

Rachel grunted and stalked back to her room, and Santana turned her attention back to Kurt.

"So," she said. "You sleepwalk when you're stressed. Anything in particular you're stressed _about_?"

"No," Kurt answered quickly, getting up from the couch and turning to walk away from her.

"Really? 'Cause I'm finding it awfully suspicious that I haven't heard a damn thing from Carson in... what... I don't know, _months_, and from the looks of it, it seems like you haven't either," she said. "What the hell is going on? And why all of a sudden are you spending every waking moment hanging out with Doctor Who?"

"I do _not_ spend every waking moment with Adam," Kurt replied. "And it's none of your business who I hang out with, anyway, so good night." He'd stalked off to bed, knowing full well that now that Santana had a solid suspicion, it was only a matter of time before she gave him more hell for it. And apparently, that day was today, because with nothing else to do, she had taken to dropping hints about Carson to him in front of Adam, who only looked confused as Kurt shot Santana death glares that meant "Shut the fuck _up_."

Thankfully, she had seemed to drop it when he turned the television on and suggested that they all channel surf for a while and see if anything interesting was on. Nothing was, but they'd settled on a channel that was playing an Elvis movie marathon. At the moment, it was on _Blue Hawaii_ and Kurt wasn't paying a bit of attention. He was too busy looking out the drizzly, rainy window and trying not to remember the night of the lightning strike, which he tended to do every time it rained. Usually he had a distraction to help him through it, either school or work. Not today. Today he was being hit full on with memories and feelings. _Well, fuck my life._

He was so busy staring at the rain and not paying a speck of attention to the movie that he almost didn't even notice when music started up on the screen, a slightly familiar melody coming from a music box. He didn't recognize it until Elvis began to sing along to the melody, and suddenly a wall of emotions was hitting him right in the face.

_Wise men say only fools rush in_  
_But I can't help falling in love with you_...

Kurt's head was suddenly flooded with the memory of slow dancing with Carson. Of being held in his arms and of feeling so safe and at peace, knowing that they were going to make love and that they would be together forever. He remembered the feel of Carson's hands on him, and the feeling of being more in love with him than he'd ever felt before. He remembered silently planning to use that very song at their wedding, as if they could ever have a proper one. He remembered wanting to express in words just how much he loved this man, but not quite being able to.

_"I guess this is kind of our song now_," was what had come out when he opened his mouth to tell Carson how in love he was, and he remembered thinking about what an idiot he sounded like, but Carson hadn't seemed to agree with that. He'd looked enamored, and just as in love with Kurt as Kurt was with him.

_What happened, Carsey? What happened to us?_

"Kurt, are you crying?" Adam's voice snapped Kurt out of his daydream and he looked over at him, trying to sound cool and unruffled, even though yes, he realized, he _had_ been crying, and Santana was looking over at him suspiciously, which he was sure wasn't helped by the fact that Adam's head was currently resting on his shoulder.

"No... no, my, um... my contacts are really bothering me right now," Kurt replied, trying to sound like just a person afflicted by terrible allergies instead of an emotional mess of a man who had just been crying over the loss of the only real love he'd ever known.

"I didn't know you wore contacts," spoke up Rachel curiously, and Kurt wanted desperately to roll his eyes and tell her to shut up.

"Yes, Rachel," he replied dryly. "I just found out that I have a slight astigmatism."

"I think I might have some solution in my bag," said Adam, reaching over the arm of the couch and beginning to root through his bag. Kurt sighed inwardly. _Jesus Christ, this is getting WAY out of hand._

"No," he protested. "No, I'm fine. I'll be good. Don't... don't worry."

"I would have thought you'd been crying," spoke up Santana brightly from her seat across the living room. "It's ok to cry, you know, Kurt. That song is so beautiful. Oh, _brother_, is it emotional," she said pointedly, and Kurt wished looks could kill, because if they could she would have been dead on the spot. _Santana, I swear to god..._

"Is it, now?" he replied through gritted teeth, setting his jaw and trying desperately to give her "Shut the fuck UP!" signals.

"Yep," she continued, clearly enjoying herself as she shot a look Adam's way before turning her attention back to Kurt. "In fact, I know a couple of people for whom this song holds such a deep, personal meaning, and..."

"Who wants popcorn?" Kurt interrupted her, getting up quickly off the couch and scurrying into the kitchen as though he were on fire. He heard Santana's footsteps following him as Adam and Rachel stayed in their spots on the couch and the movie droned on.

"It's time, Hummel," Santana said in a low voice, leaning against the fridge with her arms crossed and giving him a pointed look. "The jig is up and I _know_ that something happened between you and Carson, so you can either tell me what it is, or I can continue to snoop around until I find out. Your choice. I'm already pretty sure that James Bond over there on the couch probably had something to do with it, so-"

"Ok, look, Satan," Kurt snapped, angrily throwing a bag of popcorn into the microwave and slamming it shut before turning to glare at her as best he could when his eyes were still puffy from crying. "You don't know shit about me or Carson or our relationship, despite what you think, and you need to shut the hell up and mind your own damn business _now_, ok? Rachel and I are letting you live here rent free, so you should be grateful for that and keep your nose out of everyone's personal business. Rachel's been wanting to throw you out for weeks, and I swear to god, I am _so_ close to agreeing with her." He aggressively opened the microwave and took out the popcorn bag, emptying it into a bowl and stalking out of the kitchen, leaving Santana standing there bewildered.

It was a tense few hours after that, with Kurt pointedly ignoring Santana and trying to pretend that everything was otherwise fine so as not to alert Adam or Rachel to the fact that he was _desperate_ for the day to end. He was grateful as hell when the storm finally let up and the sun came out, prompting Adam to gather up his bag and leave the apartment with a cheerful "See you in school tomorrow, Kurt!" on his way out.

"Kurt," Santana said to him as Rachel disappeared into the bathroom and Kurt began cleaning up the mess of dishes on the coffee table. "Kurt, I-"

"Save it, Santana," Kurt snapped. "I'm _really_ not in the mood." He stalked off to the kitchen, cleaning all the dishes as fast as he could before retreating to the cold comfort of his bedroom. He climbed between his sheets and just lay there, not bothering to change his clothes or even do his facial routine. Instead he gathered up Carsey Teddy into his arms and hugged it tightly, letting the tears he'd been bravely holding in for the entire afternoon fall and land on the bear's soft fur. He really wanted Carson right now. Even if not as a lover, he really just wanted his big brother right now to hold him and reassure him that everything was ok.

He reached onto the night table for his phone, debating whether or not to send Carson a text. _He won't answer_, he told himself, biting his own lip in thought. _He never does. All it will do is cause you more pain._

_But... maybe this time he will. Maybe. I mean... you never know until you try, right? Right?_

He took a deep breath and opened his messages, spending the next fifteen minutes composing a message to his twin.

_**Hi, Carsey. How are you, honey? I just wanted to say that I thought about you today. I miss you so much, and I know that you probably won't answer this, but I just wanted to let you know that I still love you. I always will, no matter what. And I really miss my big brother.**_

_**I love you.**_

_**Kurtsie**_

He pressed the send button before he could lose his nerve, setting the phone back on the night table and waiting. He waited for two whole hours, wishing desperately for the phone to vibrate and tell him that he had a new message.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, rolling over in bed and clutching his teddy bear to his chest as he cried himself to sleep.

_He dreamed of that night. The last night before Carson left for Chicago, when they made love for what had turned out to be the last time. If Kurt had known it would be their last time, he would have cherished it more. He would have slowed down every moment, every touch of skin on skin, every whisper and every moan. He saw himself kissing down the expanse of Carson's chest, paying extra attention to the vine-like lightning scar that still filled him with so much guilt, even if Carson said he liked it. He saw himself working his way down Carson's body with his lips, leaving no inch of skin untouched or unworshiped. He saw himself clasping their hands together as he wrapped his lips around Carson's arousal, lavishng attention on it just as he had the rest of his lover's body. He could hear every moan, every little sigh of pleasure that Carson had let out, clear as a bell. We'll have so many more moments like this, he had told himself. We only have to wait a little bit, and then we'll be together for the rest of our lives._

_He saw himself sitting up in bed, with Carson in his arms facing him as his twin moved in a steady up and down rhythm, his arms wrapped around Kurt's neck as though he were desperate to never let him go. Had he known? Had he known then that this was the last time? Had he known that in only a few short months he would be taking Kurt's heart and ripping it out of his chest?_

_No, Kurt thought in his dream as he clung to Carson, burying his face in his twin's neck as he shuddered and came, feeling Carson following suit a few seconds later. No, there was no way he'd known. He didn't. This had felt too real, too much like real love to be a façade._

_He'd been in love then. In love with Kurt._

_What had happened?_

* * *

Carson slowly awakened, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness of his bedroom despite the perpetually drawn curtains. The ringing of the alarm he had set on his phone was responsible, and he really wanted to kill it at the moment, even if he knew full well that it was important for him to get up and feed Kurtsie Kitty. He was, however, extremely frustrated because he'd been dreaming of Kurt. Specifically, their last time making love before Carson had left for Chicago. The dream had felt so _real_. He could actually feel Kurt's hands and lips on him, on his chest, on his neck, on every inch of his body. _Why didn't I realize then that it would be the last time? Why didn't I savor it more? Now I'll never have that back, and I would do anything to feel that close to him again. _Now he was just awake and depressed, realizing just how empty his bed was and likely would always be.

He sighed, rolling over in bed and nearly squishing Kurtsie Kitty, who had apparently decided that his bed for the night would be snuggled up against Carson's back.

"Hey, little guy," he admonished him, picking him up and placing him safely on a pillow. "Don't sleep there. You might get smushed, and then I'll be even sadder than I already am." He reached out a finger and gently petted Kurtsie Kitty's head as the kitten meowed and licked his finger affectionately. "I miss Kurt so much, little guy. He texted me last night, you know. It had been so long since he did that, and... and just... out of the blue, there it was. He said that he misses me and that he loves me, and I swear, little guy, I was _so close_ to replying. I wanted to just call him and beg him to take me back, but, see... that's the thing. That's exactly why I _can't_ call him or text him back. Because I know deep down that it would just hurt a lot, knowing that the romantic part of our relationship is over."

Kurtsie Kitty looked at him with his head cocked to the side, his big blue eyes shining with curiosity. Carson sighed and gave a small scratch behind one of the kitten's ears.

"I don't know, Kurtsie Kitty. Everything is so fucked up. I want to talk to him so much, but... I guess I'm scared. I'm just a big chicken shit who doesn't have the balls to do anything but be a pathetic mess. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even bother getting out of bed most days."

Kurtsie Kitty gave Carson's finger one last lick and then jumped off the bed, giving him a look as if to say "Come on, feed me."

"Ok, ok, I know. You're hungry," said Carson, yawning and getting out of bed as Kurtsie Kitty, satisfied that Carson was on his way, scurried out of the room. Carson shuffled into the kitchen, preparing Kurtsie Kitty's food and settling in to feed him. This was to be the day he returned to his classes, and now that Kurtsie Kitty was four weeks old he didn't have to be fed nearly as often as he did at first. Carson figured he'd be all set for the hours he'd be away at class if he fed him first thing in the morning.

"Ok, now Kurtsie Kitty, I'll be gone until this afternoon," he said to the cat later as he started dressing himself for class. "I know you'll be a little lonely and very bored, but you have your toys, see?" He pointed in the direction of the pile of jingle balls and catnip toys, of which there were many because Carson was nothing if not a doting pet owner who spoiled Kurtsie Kitty rotten like it was his job. "So, you just be good and play with your toys or take a nap, and as soon as my last class is finished I'll be home and then I'll feed you again. And then, I don't know... we can hang out and you can sleep in my hair while I study." _I've gone off the deep end_, he thought to himself as Kurtsie Kitty, obviously, ignored him and started pawing at his scratching post. _Talking to a cat like it's a child. If anyone could see me now, I swear..._

He knelt down and scooped up Kurtsie Kitty, giving the kitten a kiss on the head before setting him back down and heading out the door, dreading the thought of trudging through a day of classes and forced socialization. It was a very long day, and his attention was barely focused on academics. It was split between wondering how Kurt was doing and wondering what Kurtsie Kitty was getting up to while he was away.

The answer to that second question, apparently, turned out to be "Sit with his paws gracefully folded in the hallway in front of the door, waiting for Carson to come home," because that was how Carson found him when he turned his key in the lock and let himself into the apartment.

"You really _do_ remind me of Kurt," Carson marveled as Kurtsie Kitty scrambled to his feet excitedly and started digging his claws into the leg of his jeans, trying to climb him. "Miss me, did you?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "I missed you, too. We're gonna have to see about getting you some kind of baby monitor that I can attach to my phone." He bent down and picked up the kitten, settling him gently into the hood of his hoodie and walking into the kitchen to prepare Kurtsie Kitty's afternoon meal. Kurtsie Kitty peeked his head out around Carson's neck, looking with interest at the bottle he was preparing, and Carson let out a laugh as the kitten's fur tickled his skin.

"This is all for you," he said out loud, fixing the nipple to the top of the bottle and holding it up for Kurtsie Kitty to inspect. "You adorable bottomless pit." He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and looked at the caller I.D., sighing in exasperation when he realized that it was Santana. She had been texting him all day, and he had been ignoring her. He knew that two minutes into a conversation was all it would take her to figure out that something was wrong, and the last thing he needed was her turning around and telling Kurt about it. So he found it easier to just ignore her.

"Ok, Kurtsie Kitty," he said brightly, playfully brandishing the bottle like a sword. "Time to eat!"

* * *

By early May, Kurt had all but given up any hope of ever talking to Carson again. He really wanted to be angry. He wanted to somehow find a way to reach Carson and say "You know what? Fine! If you don't want to talk to me, then that's just fine. I don't want to talk to you, either. I hope you're happy. I don't need you. I don't need you at all. I'll be just fine, and... and maybe I'll start dating again. Hmm? How's that sound?"

He wanted to feel that way, but he just couldn't. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't bring himself to even think that harshly about Carson, much less say all those things to him. Especially since they weren't even remotely true. He wasn't fine. He wasn't ok. He sure as hell wasn't even considering dating anyone. He was still hopelessly hung up on Carson, no matter how much it hurt.

So, since he couldn't completely erase the hurt, he learned to live with it. It was a daily struggle, but he managed. He became a man of very few words. He went silently about his own business, making himself as unobtrusive as possible and only communicating with Rachel or Santana when he absolutely had no other choice.

Especially Santana, who had somewhat calmed down with the invasive questions about his and Carson's relationship, but who nevertheless was clearly still very, very curious. He knew she was dying to know what had happened. He even knew, on some level, that even though she had no idea of the details, that she blamed Kurt. He could see it in her eyes every time he hung around with Adam at the loft. He could hear it in every sarcastic remark she made about Adam's nationality, or about the Apples. She thought that Kurt had dumped Carson for Adam, and he didn't bother to correct her assumption. It wasn't surprising, he supposed, that she would automatically take Carson's side without any of the facts at her disposal. She had been his friend first, after all. It was none of her damn business, anyway. She could think whatever she wanted. _I don't give a shit WHAT she thinks. I don't know why she even cares so much._

He welcomed the distraction that presented itself in the form of a trip to Lima at the end of the spring semester to spend a few days with his father and Carole. He hadn't seen his dad since Christmas, and it would be nice to actually spend time with him without Blaine around to spoil the atmosphere.

"How's your brother doing?" Burt asked Kurt on the day he arrived. "He never talks much when I call him. Always saying he's busy."

"I... he's fine," Kurt lied, not wanting to have to explain to his father why he had absolutely no idea how Carson was. He didn't even think about how much it would hurt to be in his and Carson's old bedroom until he was crying himself to sleep the first night of his visit, clutching Carsey Teddy to his chest and feeling as though the tears would never end. This was different than when he had slept in the same room when he visited in the fall, he realized with a heavy heart. This was so much different. Because now everything in the room just reminded him that he hadn't seen Carson in months. That he probably wouldn't be seeing him at all for a very long time. That he had basically lost everything with one phone call.

He got up out of bed and slept on the couch in the living room after that, citing humidity as the reason why when Burt asked him the next morning what was wrong with his bedroom.

"It's just so hot in there," Kurt said, trying to sound convincing. "I... it's more comfortable down in the living room."

"I understand, sweetie," said Carole from her seat at the kitchen table. "Air conditioner's been broken forever. You get used to it. Hey, if you're going out today, would you mind very much returning my books to the library for me? I have to work today, and they're already overdue."

"Sure," Kurt replied with a shrug. He picked at his breakfast before giving up and gathering the books up. Maybe getting out would do him some good, he decided as he drove to the library. Maybe he could take some time and see some of his old friends. He was pretty sure Mercedes was supposed to be coming into town. Maybe he'd call her and see if she wanted to hang out.

He was busy thinking these semi happy thoughts and dumping Carole's books into the book return bin when he heard his name being called from across the parking lot.

"Kurt!" a very familiar, very unwelcome voice called out, and Kurt cringed where he stood when he realized who it was. _Goddammit, I so do NOT need this right now._

"Hi, Blaine," he replied, making his voice as monotone and uninterested as possible. "Look, I can't really hang around and chat, I have stuff to do," he lied.

"Oh," replied Blaine, the grin that had been on his face reducing to a disappointed look. "Well, um... ok. I just... how are you?"

"Fine," Kurt said flatly.

Blaine looked down at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Um... it's just... I haven't talked to you since Christmas, and I..."

"I've been busy," Kurt interrupted.

Blaine nodded. "I figured. Well... um, I actually was hoping that we could talk sometime. We didn't really get a chance to talk at Christmas. You know, alone. And there's... there's some things I've been meaning to say, but I haven't had the opportunity."

"Blaine, if you're going to try to get me to start dating you again, you can forget it," Kurt said quickly. "I think I've made myself very clear about where you and I stand when it comes to that."

"Oh... no!" Blaine said quickly, shaking his head. "No, it... it's not that, I just... I guess I wanted to apologize."

Kurt sighed. "Blaine, I..."

"Kurt, I know I haven't exactly been the best... well... anything to you, but I swear, I just really want our friendship back," said Blaine, giving Kurt the puppy-eyed look he had perfected so well while they were dating. "I just... god, this is awkward... could we go to the Lima Bean or something? Somewhere we can just talk for a little bit?"

"I don't know, Blaine," said Kurt uncomfortably. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

Blaine's face fell slightly as he toyed with a rock with the tip of his shoe. "Well... ok. I guess I understand. I'll see you around, I guess." He gave Kurt a small smile and turned around, shuffling away slowly, leaving Kurt feeling like a complete asshole, even though he didn't see any reason why he should feel that way. Blaine had been awful to him, after all.

_Yes, but you should always be the bigger person, Kurt._

Kurt sighed again. "Blaine... wait."

Blaine turned around, looking sad but hopeful, and Kurt felt in his gut that he was probably going to regret this. "I guess I could use a cup of coffee."

Blaine grinned, and Kurt wondered what the hell he had just gotten himself into.

* * *

It was one of the most awkward conversations Kurt had ever experienced, that was for sure. Ever since they had sat down with their cups and Blaine had made a comment about Kurt looking "dirty cute," every fiber of his being was telling him to finish his coffee and get the hell out of the Lima Bean as fast as possible because this had been a colossally terrible idea , but he ignored his instinct. He stayed and listened as Blaine talked, rambling on about how he failed his NYADA audition but had been accepted at another New York theater school. _Thank god_, Kurt thought bitterly. _At least I won't have to deal with him at NYADA next year. Small favors._

"So maybe we can see each other around New York sometimes," Blaine said with a smile.

"Hmmm. Maybe," Kurt said in a non-committal tone, severely regretting agreeing to this meet-up now and counting down the moments until he could go. Blaine was now apologizing profusely for the way he had treated Kurt for the past couple of years.

"Look, Kurt," he said, fiddling absentmindedly with the rim of his coffee cup. "I know that I wasn't the best boyfriend when we were together, and I'm sorry that you feel like you can't trust me anymore, but... I mean, I really miss being friends with you."

"Blaine..." Kurt said, heaving a huge sigh and trying to be tactful even though he didn't see one damn good reason why he should be. "Look, I... I accept your apology. I guess. As long as that's all you're after. But I just don't think that I see you as a friend. Not yet. Not for a long time. Possibly not ever. You've been _awful_. You've cost me a lot of things in my life. Things that I held very dear and that I might never get back. Do you understand this? Do you really?"

Blaine hung his head, still playing with his coffee cup. "I'm really sorry that you feel that way, Kurt."

Kurt let out a breath and tapped his empty coffee cup against the table before standing up. "Look, I have to go." _This was SUCH a bad idea. I really just want to punch him in the throat. I should leave before I give in to temptation._

Blaine looked up at him sadly. "Ok."

Kurt didn't say another word, just turned around and tossed his coffee cup in the trash before hurrying out of the Lima Bean as fast as his legs could carry him.

_FRIENDS? Is he kidding? I could barely tolerate fifteen minutes across from him without wanting to murder him when I remembered that he was the entire reason that Carson was struck. That if it wasn't for him, I might still have my Carsey with me. I mean, who knows. Maybe not, but... oh, nothing was ever the same after the goddamn lightning. And it was all Blaine's fault, and now he wants to be FRIENDS?_

Kurt didn't end up going out again for the remainder of his visit to Lima. He stayed around the house, hanging out with his dad and Carole and missing Carson more than ever before. He wasn't there, but he was a constant presence, even when Kurt tried his best to forget him and concentrate on other things. He never should have gone for coffee with Blaine. It had, as he'd predicted, done him absolutely no good. When would he learn?

He wasn't sure what was worse: being in his old house and wanting to cry every time he passed by his and Carson's bedroom, or arriving back in New York and being reminded of his and Carson's all too brief romance every time he looked at a place in the apartment where they had physically expressed their love for each other. It was like he couldn't escape him, and the hurt was just flaring up. Going home to Lima hadn't been the best idea either, he decided.

It didn't help that Santana pounced on him almost immediately as soon as he got home, dragging him into his bedroom and wordlessly opening the trunk where he kept his boyfriend pillow.

"The hell is this?" she asked, pointing to it and looking at Kurt with narrowed eyes. "You have a _boyfriend pillow_?"

"Yes," Kurt replied coolly. "Not that it's any of your damned business, and I'm not sure _why_ you were going through my things, because I thought we'd established that this was a boundary you wouldn't be crossing anymore after Rachel kicked you out for a night."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Please, I was homeless for like two hours before _you_ came to find me and dragged me back here."

That was true. Kurt had felt bad when he thought about Santana spending the night alone on a park bench somewhere in the city, and he'd set out almost immediately to find her. He'd located her in an alcove between a Pizza Hut and a Subway, sitting on her suitcase and hugging the pillow she'd stolen from Kurt. She had looked sad and lost, which she had quickly tried to cover up when she noticed Kurt was there. She hadn't been fast enough, and Kurt supposed that maybe he felt bad for her because in her own way, she reminded him of Carson.

Still. That didn't mean that he needed her going through his things.

"Don't touch my stuff," he snapped, crossing over to her and slamming the lid of his trunk closed. "It's none of your business what kind of pillows I own, is it?"

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't _need_ a boyfriend pillow if you hadn't thrown away your _actual_ boyfriend!" she retorted, and Kurt saw so much red he thought for sure he'd burst a blood vessel in his eye. In a very uncharacteristic move for him, considering that he wasn't usually very physically confrontational, he grabbed Santana by the arm and marched her out of his room before stepping back inside and glaring at her.

"For the last time, Satan. _Stay out of my personal business!_" he snapped, violently pulling the privacy curtain closed. He waited until he heard her footsteps crossing the apartment before he tossed himself on his bed, curling up in a ball and trying not to cry.

He failed.

* * *

"Meow?" Kurtsie Kitty squeaked, jumping up on Carson's bed and climbing up onto his chest, where he stood on all fours and looked down into Carson's face with his big, blue eyes. "Meow?"

Carson sighed. "I already fed you, little guy. You're a big boy now, and you eat big boy food. I just really need to be left alone to sulk today, ok?"

"Meow," replied Kurtsie Kitty, settling himself down and curling up on Carson in a small, fuzzy ball. He had pretty much grown as much as he was going to, according to the vet, which meant that he was going to stay average kitten sized for the rest of his life. Not that Carson minded at all. He thought that Kurtsie Kitty was adorable, and as far as he was concerned, him staying a kitten forever was fine by him. Kurtsie Kitty may have been small, but what he lacked in size he made up for in charisma and playfulness. Carson normally loved spending hours playing with him. It took his mind off of how sad and alone he otherwise was.

Today was a particularly bad day, though, and he was in no mood to play with the cat. It was his birthday, and as soon as he had woken up and realized that this was the first birthday he had ever spent without Kurt in their entire lives, he immediately wanted to go back to sleep. And possibly not wake up again.

He'd settled for spending the day in bed, hugging his pillow draped with Kurt's scarf even though he knew that would only make his sadness worse. His phone had rang exactly once that morning, and for one glorious moment, Carson had been sure it would be Kurt calling. And if it had been, he decided he would answer it. That he wouldn't let the day go by without wishing his precious baby brother a happy birthday.

He'd almost been disappointed when he realized it was only his dad calling. He'd answered it, trying not to sound sullen, even though he knew it was probably coming through in his voice anyway.

"Happy birthday, kid!" his father's voice said on the other end of the line. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Carson replied quietly.

"You excited to have the summer off? I was hoping you could come visit sometime," Burt continued. "It's been a long time, and I want to see how you've been holding up. Are the therapy appointments going ok?"

"They're fine, Dad," said Carson. "And I don't know if I'll be able to visit this summer. I signed up for a bunch of summer classes." That wasn't a complete lie. He had signed up for a lot of classes, because with nothing else but a cat to occupy his time, he'd decided that he might as well try to finish his undergrad degree in three years instead of four. Why, he had no idea. It was something to do, he guessed. However, most of the classes he'd signed up for were online, and he would have had more than enough freedom to go to Lima over the summer if he really wanted. He just... didn't want. He didn't know anymore how to act normal, and he didn't want his dad to see just how bad things had gotten for him. He knew that he had permanent bags under his eyes now, and that he was getting skinnier with each passing day because he never had the desire or the energy to eat. He couldn't let his dad see him that way. Or worse, he thought, what if he ran into Kurt?

No, staying home for the summer was best, he decided.

Burt had understandably sounded disappointed, but had made small talk with him for a few more minutes and wished him a happy birthday once more before Carson ended the call. He'd turned his phone off after that. He didn't think he could handle it ringing again and the caller not being Kurt.

Out of curiosity, he turned it back on at the end of the day and saw a missed text from Santana that said "_Happy Birthday, Diane Sawyer! ^_^ " _and one from Sebastian that said "_Birthday threesome?"_ But there was nothing from Kurt.

_It's ok_, he told himself as he turned the phone back off, sadly hugging his Kurt pillow to his chest as Kurtsie Kitty chewed on the sleeve of his hoodie. _I didn't really expect him to call, anyway._

_Happy birthday, Kurtsie. I love you. I'm sorry._

* * *

Kurt spent his birthday vehemently rebuffing both Rachel and Santana's insistence that he go out and celebrate in some way. He insisted that he had work to do for _Vogue_, but in reality he was holed up in his bedroom with his phone, trying to work up the courage to dial Carson's number. He didn't want to get his hopes up too much, but he thought that surely Carson would talk to him today, of all days. That his twin wouldn't ignore him on their birthday. _I mean... he can't, right? It's our birthday. It was always special. Mom made it special for us when we were little, and Dad tried after she died, but sometimes he couldn't, so we always made it special for each other in any way we could. He CAN'T ignore me today._

_Right?_

He debated with himself for almost three hours before he gathered up the strength to pick up the phone and scroll through his contacts until he located Carson. He hit the dial button before he could lose his nerve, and held the phone up to his ear. _Oh god, this is it. I'm going to talk to him. I will. I..._

"Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

Kurt gulped, unsure what he should do. He ended up hanging up and dialing again. Maybe Carson had picked up the phone too late.

"Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

He dialed one more time, just to make sure.

"Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

Kurt choked back tears as he stammered into the phone. "Hi, Carsey. It's me. I... I just... I just wanted to say... happy birthday, honey. I know that you don't want to talk to me, but I just keep thinking of you all alone, and... well, actually, maybe you aren't alone? Have you made a friend? I don't even know anymore, but... Carsey, I miss you. I miss you so much, and I... well. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I love you and that I'm thinking of you, sweetheart. Happy birthday."

He brought up one hand to wipe away the tears spilling from his eyes, wishing that he'd had the courage not to hang up first before he delivered his "message."

* * *

Of all the things Carson expected to see when he answered the knock on his apartment door one day in early June, his dad wasn't even on the list. He expected maybe a package, or perhaps Mrs. Moore asking how he was doing when all she really wanted was to show off her cleavage in a low-cut blouse, and then he would have to find a polite way of getting rid of her without coming out and saying "I only date my own siblings." Or maybe, he hoped, maybe it was Kurt. After all, he _had_ called Carson on his birthday. Carson could strangle his fucking phone for not showing him the notifications until four days later, but Kurt had, in fact, called. Three times. And Carson wasn't sure what to do after he found out. He thought for sure that Kurt probably thought he'd ignored him on purpose, when that wasn't true at all. And he didn't want to call him back days later. He would look like an asshole.

_You are one, Carson. Never forget. You ARE one._

But it wasn't Kurt, or Mrs. Moore, or a package, it was Burt standing there outside the door, and Carson had no idea how to react, other than with internal horror. _Oh god, what is he doing here? He's going to see how horrible I look and he's going to tell Kurt, and... FUCK. _

"Um... hi, Dad," he said awkwardly.

"Hi, kid," Burt replied. "Look, when you said you couldn't come visit, I thought, well... maybe I could come to you. I had a stopover here for my flight for work. I miss you, you know."

"I know," Carson replied. "I just..."

"Oh hey, who's this?" asked Burt, interrupting him to lean down with a smile on his face, and Carson realized that Kurtsie Kitty was peering curiously around his leg, unsure what to make of their visitor. "You got yourself a cat?" he asked, holding out one hand to Kurtsie Kitty, who sniffed it experimentally.

"Uh... yeah," said Carson, leaning down and scooping Kurtsie Kitty up into his arms. "His name is K... his name is Chris," he said, covering just in time.

"Hi, Chris," said Burt, reaching out his hand to pet softly at Kurtsie Kitty's head. "I'm your grandpa Burt."

Carson snorted despite himself. "Lame, Dad."

"Hey, I'll take what I can get, ok?" said Burt with a grin. "I always wanted a grandbaby. I'll take a grandkitten. You gonna invite your old man in?"

Carson stepped back and waved Burt inside, looking around quickly to determine how bad the apartment looked. There were a few mugs of old coffee laying around, and there were books all over the place, but otherwise he didn't think it looked too bad.

"You look so skinny, buddy," Burt said, looking Carson up and down as he entered the apartment. "Are you ok?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh, um..." said Carson, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "Yeah, I just... my schedule is really hectic and... um... most of the time I guess I don't have much time to eat between classes. Lots of running to and from, you know."

"Hmm," said Burt thoughtfully. "You should start packing food with you when you leave. It can't be healthy to do so much with no fuel. It's bad for cars and it's bad for humans."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. I'll do that," said Carson awkwardly, wondering how long his dad was planning on staying, because he was pretty sure it was supposed to rain tonight and he did _not_ need his dad witnessing a panic attack.

"I can only stay a few hours," Burt said, as though reading Carson's mind. "I just thought we could hang around for a little bit before I have to catch my next flight. Catch up a bit."

"Yeah... yeah, sure," said Carson quietly, relieved, hugging Kurtsie Kitty close. He happened to glance at the calendar on the wall behind his father and gulped when he realized what day it was.

It had been exactly one year since the lightning strike.

* * *

_One year_, Kurt thought sadly to himself as he stared at the calendar on his desk at _Vogue_. _One year ago today. It's been a year._

It had been exactly one year since the horrible night he had held Carson in his arms as he desperately waited for the ambulance to arrive. One year since he had spent countless hours in a dingy waiting room, unsure whether or not he still had a brother. One year since he had almost lost Carson.

_Funny, _he thought. _I lost him anyway._

He finished up his work and left his office, taking his time getting home. He really wasn't in any hurry to get there and have to deal with Rachel's diva attitude, which had lessened somewhat since she'd broken up with Brody but which still tended to rear its ugly head from time to time, or with Santana's ever invasive questions. He just wanted to be left alone.

He sure as hell wasn't expecting to enter the hallway leading to the apartment and see Blaine, of all people, standing there, apparently having been waiting for him. _What the FUCK?_

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, not even caring how sharp he sounded. Why should he?

Blaine winced. "I was in New York checking out my new school, and I just... I mean, I knew that maybe you didn't want to see me, but I didn't know where else to go and, um... I kind of need to ask a favor."

"A favor?" asked Kurt warily. "Blaine, I'm very tired and today is _not_ a good day, and to be perfectly honest, the very last thing I feel like doing is a favor for anyone, especially you."

"I got rejected for the dorms at college," Blaine murmured, looking down at his feet.

"Huh?" asked Kurt.

"I can't live on campus. I got rejected," Blaine repeated.

"Why? And an even better question, what in hell does this have to do with me?" asked Kurt. "I can't force them to let you live in the dorms, Blaine."

"I know," said Blaine quietly. "But, um, that's the thing. See... my parents aren't helping out much, financially, with my college. I mean, they're paying their share of the tuition and stuff, but an apartment would be so much more expensive than the dorms would have been, and, well... I mean, I know you'll probably say no, and I totally would understand, but..."

"Blaine, will you just get to the damn point?" Kurt snapped, beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that he knew where this was going.

Blaine looked up at him with wet eyes. "Um, I was wondering, if it was ok with you... and Rachel and Santana, of course...um... if maybe I could pay a share of the rent and live here with you guys?"


	34. Chapter 34

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys! How are we doing? Dealing with all the angst ok? Yes? Oh... no? Hmmm. We're sorry. :/ But, before you throw rotten fruit at us, how about reading this whole chapter first? ^_^ **

**Seriously, though. We know that the angst is killing you, and we love you for hanging in there. *Kisses and hugs* Let's read and see if we can't get the boys closer to a reunion, hmm?**

Kurt just stared at Blaine for a moment, utterly speechless. He had no idea how to even answer him without exploding. _Is he joking? Please, tell me he's joking. He's not REALLY standing here asking to move in with us, is he? I mean... shit._

Blaine began to fidget uncomfortably when Kurt didn't say anything. "Like I said, I know that you'll probably say no, but I thought maybe..."

Kurt suddenly found his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Blaine, wondering how much jail time he'd get if he just started beating the other boy right now and didn't stop. "Blaine, are you fucking serious right now?" he asked, trying his best to keep his voice at a reasonable level, which was proving extremely difficult. "After all we've been through... no... after all _you_ have _put me through_, and all our complicated history, to say the _least_, you _really_ expect me to just welcome you here? To let you _live_ here? What kind of an idiot do you take me for?"

Blaine hung his head, looking sadly down at the ground and digging the toe of his shoe into the ground. "I understand, Kurt. I thought that might be your exact reaction, actually, but I just..."

"Yes, and your guess was correct," Kurt interrupted, his voice still on the verge of being uncomfortably loud.

"I know, and I know that you have every right to be angry," said Blaine quietly, his eyes not quite meeting Kurt's. "But apartments are so expensive, and..."

"Get a roommate, Blaine," Kurt snapped. "Get two roommates. Do what you have to, but you're not living here."

Blaine sighed. "That's not as easy as you make it sound, Kurt. You already knew your roommates. I don't know anybody here in the city. Nobody except you guys. And... I don't know... I guess I was hoping that maybe you could forgive me enough to just let me stay. Even just for a little while, until I _do_ know people, and can maybe move in with someone else." He finished speaking and looked up at Kurt with a sad, hopeful look.

"I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm just not comfortable with the idea of you living here," said Kurt. "Not after all of our history. You _know_ this."

"I know," said Blaine dejectedly. "But... look, Kurt, I'm not usually one to beg..."

"Since _when_?" Kurt exclaimed, somehow resisting the urge to snort.

"But," Blaine continued, ignoring the outburst, "I know that you wouldn't be exactly crazy about the idea, and I promise, I'll do my best to infringe on your life as little as possible. I'll keep to myself unless absolutely necessary. You won't even know I'm here. And... I mean, don't you think you kind of owe me a favor?"

"_Owe you a favor?_" Kurt exclaimed angrily, seriously ready to explode now. "How in the _hell_ do you figure I owe you _anything_, much less a favor?"

"Well," Blaine said calmly, his eyes trained firmly down on his shoes, "I mean, I never went to the police about Carson beating me up."

Kurt froze, his heart suddenly picking up its pace as Blaine's words sunk in. "What?"

"Last year," Blaine said calmly. "I mean, I _could_ have gone to them and had Carson arrested. I even took pictures of my bruises, just in case I decided to, but... well. You know that I didn't at the time. The lightning, and all that. How is he doing, by the way? I imagine he's pretty much back into his old shape by now."

Kurt could feel his blood running cold as the reality of what Blaine was saying hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind raced, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He had no idea what the statute of limitations on assault was, but he was pretty sure that it was more than one year. And if Blaine still had the photos to prove what Carson had done to him... _Oh god. No, he can't do this. I can't let him do that to Carson after all he's been through._

"Are you blackmailing me?" he asked Blaine, trying to sound angry, but he knew that his anxiety and fear was shining through as bright as day. Blaine looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

"Blackmailing you? No," he said, shaking his head while continuing to smile, which gave Kurt the most uneasy feeling right in the pit of his stomach. "I'm just pointing out that I've done you _and_ your brother a pretty big favor. I just don't think it's a lot to ask that you let me stay here for a few months, but if you _really_ don't want me here, then..."

Kurt blinked at him, considering his options. He briefly thought of telling Blaine that Rachel and Santana wouldn't be ok with it, but that was only half true. He knew that Rachel would be fine with it, because the rent on the loft had recently gone up, and with only her and Kurt paying the majority of the rent, she would jump at the chance to have someone else regularly paying a share of it. She wouldn't care if Blaine's presence made Kurt uncomfortable. And Blaine was sure to find out if Kurt lied to him.

He knew Santana wouldn't like it, but her opinion would count so little to Rachel, who was constantly on the verge of kicking her out again anyway, especially since Santana only paid rent when she actually had the money to spare.

And if, by some miracle, he did manage to find a way to tell Blaine no, then what? He had the sick feeling in his gut that his ex-boyfriend would have absolutely no qualms about actually going to the police about Carson. He'd have no reason not to. Kurt swallowed and fought back tears as he thought about Carson answering his apartment door one day and being arrested for something that Kurt wasn't even sure he remembered doing. Of his precious twin sitting in a jail cell somewhere, alone and scared with nobody to comfort him, and possibly not even anyone close by who would care. Kurt realized that he didn't even know if Carson was still on medication for his nerve damage. Maybe not, but what if he was? Would the police know this? Would they even care enough to make sure Carson could keep taking it? And what about Northwestern? Would they take Carson back after everything was over, or would he be barred from finishing his education in the one school he ever wanted to go to?

_I can't. I just can't do that to him. I still love him too much to let any of those things happen to him when I have the power to do something about it. I can't let Blaine ruin Carson's life just because I didn't want to be inconvenienced for a little while. I can do this much for him, can't I? Even if he doesn't love me the way he used to, I still love him the same as I always have._

_And love is about sacrifice. Isn't it?_

He took a shaky breath, trying to keep his composure as he looked Blaine in the eye, wondering if the pure hatred he was feeling for the other boy right now was shining through in his face. He hoped it was.

"Just for a few months?" he asked, even as he squashed down the foreboding feeling that this was going to turn into significantly more than that.

"Just for a few months," Blaine repeated, the grin never leaving his face. "I really appreciate this, Kurt. I do. And I promise, like I said, I'll be as little of an inconvenience as possible. You won't even know I'm here."

Kurt swallowed a lump in his throat as he slid the apartment door open, feeling as though he'd just sold his soul to the proverbial devil.

_What the hell did I just get myself into?_

* * *

Unfortunately for Carson, it became apparent about an hour into his father's unexpected visit that hiding his anxiety attacks, at least, would be much easier said than done. This was the realization that he regretfully came to as he sat beside Burt on the couch, trying his best to pay attention to what his father was saying about his most recent work in politics, but only able to focus on the fact that the sky was looking very, very gray at the moment.

"I mean, I still find it hard to be away from Lima for such long stretches of time," Burt was saying as Carson looked anxiously out the window. "Because that tire shop is my baby. But... hey, kid, are you ok?" He stopped talking and looked worriedly at Carson.

"Huh?" Carson murmured, managing to tear his eyes away from the darkening sky and meet his dad's gaze. "Oh... yeah. I'm fine, Dad. I just... I have a lot on my mind. You know. School." He snuck a glance back out the window and silently commanded his heartbeat to stop gradually picking up speed. _Not today, fuck, please, NOT today. Today is the worst possible day for this. Can't you at least wait until my dad is gone? Is that really so much to ask for?_ Apparently, yes, it was, because the unmistakable sound of raindrops gently tapping on the windowpane caused his heart to skip several beats before beginning to race again.

"Carson, you don't look good," said Burt quietly, reaching one hand out to feel Carson's forehead as if he had a fever. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine!" Carson insisted quickly, backing away from his father's hand. "I'm really fine, Dad, I just... I..." He could feel his heartbeat quickening further, and to his horror and humiliation, his chest was starting to tighten as his breathing grew labored. The very fact that his dad was sitting there watching him begin to fall apart was making it so much worse, and the rain hadn't even really picked up yet. He unconsciously clutched at his chest and tried to force himself to focus on something else, anything else but the drizzling outside.

_Think of, um... fuck... ok... Kurt. Kurt's eyes. They look like the ocean, right? I mean, not that I've ever actually seen the ocean, but, well... yes. They... they look like..._

Distracting himself wasn't working. The rain was beginning to pick up, and it was getting ever harder to breathe normally. He felt Kurtsie Kitty climb up on the couch and nuzzle his way into Carson's lap, as if trying to protect him in his own cat way.

"Carson!" Burt exclaimed, watching in horror as Carson continued clutching at his chest, wheezing as he stroked Kurtsie Kitty with one shaking hand. "Carson, what's happening?"

"I can't breathe," Carson said in a small, choked up voice full of panic. "Pills. I need my pills," he gasped out, cursing himself for not taking his medication in advance of the rain arriving, as he'd been considering doing since his last panic attack. Today would have been a really fucking great day to begin doing that, he thought bitterly.

"What pills?" asked Burt, getting up from the couch immediately and looking around the room, as if the pills in question would appear out of thin air. "What's the matter? What pills?"

"Bathroom cabinet," Carson wheezed, and Burt was gone in a flash in the direction of the bathroom. He was back in less than three seconds, carrying the bottle of pills and opening the cap as he looked at Carson with worry.

"How many?" he asked.

"One," replied Carson, and Burt shook out one pill and handed it to him. Carson took it, swallowing it dry as fast as he could and picking up Kurtsie Kitty with both hands, cuddling him while he looked down at the ground and waited for the panic to subside. He could feel his father's eyes on him, and he knew that there was going to be a very humiliating conversation to be had when he had calmed down.

_Fuck my fucking life,_ he thought miserably, stroking Kurtsie Kitty's fur and wishing for the floor to just swallow him up as he felt embarrassed tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

Or for death. Death was good.

"Better?" asked Burt gently after a few more minutes had gone by. Carson nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. His dad sat back down beside him, turning the pill bottle over and over again in his hand.

"Carson, these are anti-anxiety pills," he said as he looked down at the bottle's label and then back over to Carson.

"I know," said Carson quietly.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Burt asked. "Like, for example, why you _need _anti-anxiety pills?"

Carson sighed, running his fingers over Kurtsie Kitty and wishing fervently that he was anywhere right now but where he was. "Well, I guess I need them because I have an anxiety problem," he answered, his voice sounding a lot more sarcastic than he intended it to.

"I gathered that," replied Burt. "How long has this been going on?"

Carson shrugged. "Ever since the lightning. It's really not as bad as it looks," he lied, trying to make his voice sound nonchalant and unconcerned. "I mean, it's not that big of a deal. I just... whenever it rains, I get a little anxious, but it's not like it's a huge problem."

"Carson, you couldn't _breathe_," his father replied in a concerned voice. "I'd say that's a pretty big problem. What if I hadn't been here?"

"Dad, it's not as bad as you think!" exclaimed Carson. "Really. I've had these attacks before and they always go away. It's fine."

Burt looked at him quizzically, as though he could sense that Carson wasn't being entirely truthful. _Well, I'm not, am I? The anxiety attacks are bad, but the overwhelming feeling of not even wanting to live life most days is even worse. Thank fuck he doesn't know about THAT, or he'd never leave me alone._

"I wish you would have told me," his dad said, reaching over and taking one of Carson's hands in his. "I don't like the thought of you dealing with something like this all by yourself. You're my kid. I'm supposed to be there for you in times like this."

"Dad, it's _fine_," Carson insisted. "I've been dealing with it for a long time, and... and it's slowly getting better," he lied.

Burt looked skeptical. "Maybe I should cancel my flight and stay with you a while."

"Dad, _no_!" Carson protested. "Don't do that, ok? I mean it. I'm fine. It was just a panic attack and now I've taken my meds and it's over. There's no need for you to put your shit...sorry, your _stuff..._on hold because of me, ok?"

"I don't know, Carson..."

"_DAD!_"

"Ok, ok," Burt said with a sigh, squeezing Carson's hand gently. "But I still don't like it. Does Kurt know about this?"

Carson's head snapped up, a lead weight settling in his stomach. "No! He doesn't know, and god, Dad, you can't tell him. Please. _Please._ Promise me you won't tell him."

Burt frowned. "Carson, he has a right to know. You'd want to know if he was going through something like this, wouldn't you?"

"No, Dad, you don't understand," Carson whined, yanking his hand free from his father's grip. "He can't know about this! I don't want him to know, because you know how he worries. He'll spend all his time worrying about me and how I'm doing, and I don't want that for him. He has school and _Vogue_, and I want him to be able to concentrate on those things, ok? Seriously." Despite how he managed to make it sound, he really was in a whole new level of panic over the idea of Kurt knowing about his problems. _That's the last thing I need. I've worked so hard to give him his freedom, and if he knows about this, he'll worry. I know he will. And then all of this will have been for nothing, and... fuck..._

"Please," he repeated pleadingly, looking up at his dad desperately. "_Please_, don't tell him. Please? Promise me."

"If he finds out, he'll kill me for not telling him," said Burt after a moment of silence.

"He won't find out," Carson assured him quietly. "You can be sure of that." _Because I avoid him at all costs, even though it hurts worse than anything has ever hurt before._

Burt sighed. "Fine. I won't say anything. But, Carson, I'll be keeping tabs on you, kid. When I call you, I want you to answer me and tell me _honestly_ how you're doing. Or _I'm_ going to spend all my time worrying. And you don't want that, do you?"

Carson shook his head. "No. You're right. I promise, I'll keep you updated."

"Good." Burt leaned over, wrapping Carson up in an affectionate hug, and Carson hugged him back, feeling like kind of an asshole for making his dad worry so much. And for knowing full well that Burt didn't even have the full picture of just how bad things were for him.

_It's better that he doesn't know how hopeless I feel most of the time_, he thought to himself logically. _Really. He'd REALLY worry then. I know he would. And he might even tell Kurt, and then... fuck, I don't know. Everything would be a huge mess, and I'm overwhelmed just thinking about it. I really fucking hate my life sometimes. _

"You're the only one who really gets me," he said to Kurtsie Kitty later, after Burt had gone to catch his flight, reiterating to Carson that he fully expected to be kept informed of his progress. Carson had promised, breathing the world's hugest sigh of relief when the door had finally closed and he was left alone once more in his apartment with Kurtsie Kitty, who was currently looking at him as though he understood his words.

"You're the only one who understands what it's like for me, aren't you, little guy?" he said, pulling the kitten into his lap and petting him gently.

"Meow," replied Kurtsie Kitty, delicately licking his paw.

_Because no one else can ever know. Especially not Kurt. He just can't._

* * *

Just as Kurt had predicted, the only resident of the loft who was happy with the prospect of Blaine moving in had been Rachel. Santana had been beyond irritated when she found out, just like Kurt knew she would be. He knew that it was probably a dick move on his part, but he hadn't mentioned it to her for the entire duration of the summer. He didn't want to deal with her questions about why he would be ok with Blaine in such close proximity, and he knew that Rachel would be far too involved in her own life to say anything about it to Santana, whom she barely spoke to anyway, so he figured that he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Um, what the fuck?" she'd said when she had come home from her late bar tending shift one night in early September to see Blaine on the couch, which was going to be serving as his bed until he could get his things delivered from Ohio to the city. "Would someone mind telling me what the hell Blowties is doing here in his 1950s pajamas?"

"Hi, Santana," Blaine had replied, smiling and ignoring the insult as if he hadn't heard it. "You look lovely as always."

"Mmm, and as always, you look like you're transporting caterpillars on your face," she replied with a sarcastic smile. "My question has yet to be answered. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Didn't Kurt tell you?" asked Blaine, the smile still plastered on his face like a mask. "I live here now. For the time being, anyway."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Santana said, dropping her purse onto the floor with a crash as Kurt cringed from his seat at the kitchen table. "I don't remember anyone consulting me about this shit."

"Well, Santana, that would be because you barely ever pay your share of the rent, and it keeps going up. Kurt and I can only stretch our money so far," Rachel replied calmly from her seat across from Kurt, where she was concentrating on painting her nails. "And Blaine has agreed to _regularly _pay a share. Therefore, your opinion about a new roommate is pretty low on the priority list. Besides, I could have sworn I mentioned it to you."

"You didn't," snapped Santana. "And that's such a pile of shit. I've been paying rent regularly for at least two months now that I have three jobs. Besides, you don't even work. You get all your money from dear old dads, so why the fuck couldn't you have asked them for more instead of inviting Boreblers to stay?"

"I didn't invite him," replied Rachel smoothly, blowing on the finished nails of one hand. "Kurt did. I just went along with it."

Kurt could feel Santana's stare slowly turning toward him, burning into the back of his head. "It's only temporary," he said with a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. "Just until he can find a place closer to his school with people he knows. It's _not_ forever."

"Right," said Blaine from the couch. "Not forever."

Santana was silent for a moment, and Kurt really wished he could disappear when he thought about what she must be thinking of him. Not that he really valued her opinion anyway, but he knew that she had to be thinking about what a dick he looked like, inviting his ex-boyfriend to live with them and not caring even a little about Carson. _You don't know shit, Santana. You don't. This is FOR Carson._

"Hummel," she said after a minute, marching over to him and hooking her arm into his, dragging him up from the table. "Come with me. We need to have a little chat, you and I."

"Santana-"

"_Now_," she hissed, throwing a poisonous look in Blaine's direction before yanking Kurt in the direction of his own bedroom and shoving him inside. She pulled the privacy curtain closed after them and turned to glare at him with crossed arms.

"Start talking," she ordered, her eyes narrowed and a look of pure anger on her face. "Now, or I will _make_ you talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," Kurt replied defensively, settling cross-legged on his bed and unconsciously playing with the fur on Carsey Teddy's paw. "I don't have to justify anything to you. Rachel's right. You barely ever contribute around here, so your opinion really isn't very important."

"Oh, hell no, Hummel. I think my opinion is _very_ important when you all of a sudden are ok with Hairgel McSuspenders living here with us when he's cheated on you, sexually assaulted you, disrespected both you and Carson, and in general has done nothing but be a complete shithead the entire time I've known him," said Santana coolly. "As far as I know, you haven't seen or heard from Carson in months. Neither have I, for that matter. It's like he completely stopped talking to anyone. Meanwhile, you spend a fuck ton of time with British, and now you're inviting your asshole ex-boyfriend to live here? What the _fuck_?"

"As I've told you repeatedly, Santana, the relationship between me and Carson is _none_ of your business," Kurt snapped. "You don't know shit about my life or about Carson, so you need to drop it. It's also none of your business who I choose to spend my own time with. And I... I only agreed to let Blaine live here, _temporarily_, because he got rejected from the dorms at his school and he'll be out of here just as soon as he makes some friends there he can room with." He hoped that his voice sounded relatively normal, because the last thing he needed was for Santana to know the full truth of why he was "letting" Blaine stay.

"Ok, you need to sit there and listen to me, because I'm about to lay some cold, hard truth on you whether you like it or not," replied Santana, her voice slightly hushed so as not to carry through the entire apartment. "I call bullshit on that whole sob story. How the fuck did he get rejected from the dorms?"

Kurt sighed. "I don't know, Santana, just drop it. Please."

"I most certainly will _not_," Santana insisted. "You hated this guy's guts last year, and now you're willing to live with him? Something doesn't add up here, Hummel. He's playing you, and you're falling for it like a dumbass. I'm only trying to figure out what's going on so I can _help _you. You and Carson are like fam-"

"God, Santana, just _mind your own damn business_!" Kurt exclaimed in a hushed tone, desperate to get her to just leave him alone with his own misery. "He's living here for a few months, and that's that. If... if you don't like it, you can just move out," he finished, feeling bad about his words instantly when Santana looked momentarily stricken. Just for a brief second, she looked vulnerable, and much like with Carson, Kurt wasn't accustomed to seeing her look like that.

It was brief, however, because her default cold expression returned almost instantly and she shook her head in exasperation. "Fine. Whatever. I don't know why I bother trying to help people who don't want to be helped. First Berry and her hooker boyfriend and now you and whatever the fuck is going on. I don't know. I'm done." She stalked out of the room, pulling the curtain closed angrily on her way out and leaving Kurt alone. He took a shaky breath and curled up on the bed, clutching at Carsey Teddy and softly stroking the fur on the bear's head.

_Everything is such a mess_, he thought sadly as he hugged the bear tightly. He hoped that maybe Carson would feel the hug wherever he was and think of him, even if only for a second. He wondered how much longer it would be before Carson stopped ignoring him. He knew that their father had been talking to him regularly over the phone and had even seen him at his apartment at the beginning of the summer.

"How's he doing?" he'd asked Burt over the phone once, desperate for any bit of news he could get. He wasn't even sure if Burt knew that Carson wasn't speaking to him.

"Oh, he... he's fine," Burt had replied, clearing his throat. "He's very busy with school and stuff, I guess. Always on the go. You know how he is."

"Yeah," replied Kurt, his stomach twisting in pain. Because no, he didn't know anymore how Carson was. Months continued to go by in which Kurt heard nothing and received no replied to any of his messages or texts, which were becoming an ever more infrequent occurrence. He just couldn't handle the sting of being ignored anymore, especially when he knew that their dad was talking to Carson and he couldn't.

_What about me?_ he thought sadly, holding Carsey Teddy to his chest. _Why won't he talk to ME? At this point I don't even care if he loves me in a romantic way anymore. If he doesn't want me in that way, I'm ok with that. I think. Well, not really, but... I mean, if that's what he really wants, then fine. I'll live the rest of my life single if it comes to that, but... I can't handle life without Carson in it at all. _

He dreamed the proposal dream again that night, after he'd cried himself into a fitful sleep. The one in which he and Carson were in the beautiful, hilly meadow. He smiled in his sleep, a smile that faded into a frown as soon as he realized that Carson was fading away before his eyes. He took the sunlight and the color with him, leaving Kurt by himself, surrounded by nothing but dry, dying lilacs and browning grass.

No matter where he looked, he couldn't find Carson.

* * *

"You should call him," Dr. McNeil kept saying.

For months, that was all Carson had been hearing, and quite frankly, he was beginning to get sick of it. He was sick of her bringing up Kurt in general, especially since he tried so hard to steer the conversation away from him during each and every session he was forced to endure. And yet somehow or another, he always ended up talking about him anyway. He didn't know how Dr. McNeil managed, but somehow she always wound up making him discuss Kurt, little by little, whether he wanted to or not.

"He was perfect," he found himself saying during one early November session after Dr. McNeil asked him what he and Kurt had been like as children. "So adorable, and so sweet."

"Were you interested in the same things?" asked Dr. McNeil, jotting something down in her ever present notebook. Carson sometimes wondered what the fuck she had in there. If she was really taking notes, or if the entire book was full of doodles or something.

"Well, not really, I guess," Carson mused, thinking back on it. "I mean, he had his interests and I didn't really have many. He took ballet classes from the time he was really little."

"Oh?" asked Dr. McNeil, interested.

"Yeah. My mom caught him dancing in front of the television to the _Blues Clues_ theme song once, and she asked him if he liked dancing," Carson said, smiling at the memory. "He said yes, and asked if he could take ballet classes like the girls in our nursery school class did. My mom enrolled him the very next day."

"Did he enjoy it?" the psychiatrist asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think he did," Carson replied, lost now in his stroll down memory lane. "He loved his tutu, especially. I remember he was so excited when he first got it, and he tried it on immediately. He asked me and my mom how he looked."

"And what did you say?" asked Dr. McNeil. "Do you remember?"

"My mom told him he looked cute, and then he turned to me," said Carson, almost forgetting now that Dr. McNeil was even in the room. "He looked at me with those big, blue eyes, and he said "Carsey? Do you like it too?" And I told him, "Kurtsie, you look beautiful." Because he really did. He was perfect. And then he smiled so big, like my opinion had made his whole day. And to this day it remains the most adorable thing I've ever seen."

"It sounds like you two were incredibly close," said Dr. McNeil gently.

"We were," replied Carson, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and willing himself not to fall apart. He would _not_ cry here in front of Dr. McNeil. He just fucking wouldn't.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Carson couldn't blame her. This was probably the most he'd ever talked in one session. "Kurt had his ballet lessons. Did you have any activities you were involved in?"

"Not for a while," replied Carson, resigning himself to the fact that he was apparently going to spill part of his guts in today's session. "Mostly I liked to write my little stories for Kurt and my grandmother. But then when I was around seven, I started taking martial arts classes."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I guess, looking back on it, I needed something to distract me. You know, because our mom was sick by then," said Carson, his stomach twisting at the dredging up of those particular memories.

"That's understandable," said Dr. McNeil softly. "You were so young and going through so much."

"Yeah," murmured Carson, digging the toe of his sneaker into the plush rug.

"Why martial arts?" asked Dr. McNeil.

"Oh," said Carson, clearing his throat. "Well, actually, that was sort of because of Kurt. He's always had a hard time, you know. With people giving him shit for being different. Even when he was only three years old and starting to take ballet classes, the other kids and even their parents would laugh at him for wearing the tutu."

"That's terrible," remarked Dr. McNeil in shock. "How did it make you feel, seeing people treat him so badly?"

"Honestly? It really fucking pissed me of," replied Carson. "There he was, just trying to enjoy doing something that he really loved to do, and most of the people around him were going out of their way to make sure that he knew that they thought he was "strange" or "weird" for being himself. I mean, what the fuck. He was _three_. And already kids and adults alike were laughing at him and treating him like shit. He came out of class crying once, when me and my dad went to meet him and my mom at the ballet studio. Like, crying so much that he couldn't even talk. My dad asked my mom what was wrong with him, and I heard her whisper that some of the kids had been teasing him and calling him a girl."

"Poor child," remarked Dr. McNeil.

"Yep. It only got worse when we started real school. Bigger kids practically made it a fucking hobby to pick on him. Calling him names, stealing his lunch, making fun of him for every fucking thing. I spent a lot of recesses letting him cry on my shoulder in the bathroom. And wishing that I could hurt every last little shit who had ever made him cry."

"Is that why you chose to pursue martial arts?" asked Dr. McNeil.

Carson nodded. "Pretty much. I thought maybe it would come in handy one day if I ever had to really protect him. So I signed up for the classes and I learned as much as I could."

"And did you ever have to use what you learned?" asked Dr. McNeil quietly.

Carson hesitated a moment. "No," he said at last. She didn't need to know about Blaine. Besides, that hadn't taken any of his martial arts knowledge. That had been pure, pent up fury finally being released. "I wanted to, though. So many times, I wanted to. Especially when we got older and assholes started bullying him physically. Throwing him in dumpsters was their favorite thing."

"Why didn't you choose to use your skills?" the doctor asked.

Carson shrugged. "I guess because Kurt isn't a violent person at all. It makes him uncomfortable, because he's a really gentle and sweet person. He's the type of person that never wishes harm on anyone, even when they really deserve it. So... I don't know. I guess I just kept myself under control for his sake. So that he never had to see me being violent. I felt like I always had to be the most positive influence in his life and be strong for him."

Dr. McNeil was silent for a minute, apparently lost in thought. Carson couldn't blame her. He'd side-stepped the subject of Kurt for so long, and now all of a sudden he'd let loose with a veritable flood of Kurt feelings. She must have been fucking fascinated. _I really hope she can't tell that I'm in love with him, though. I don't particularly need to have THAT conversation today. What I've already said is bad enough._

"Carson," she said after a minute, clicking and unclicking her pen. "Do you suppose that maybe part of the reason you've spiraled into such a depression is because of whatever happened between you and your brother that resulted in your not speaking to one another?"

"I'm _not_ depressed," Carson replied forcefully. He was so sick of her implying that he was. He couldn't be depressed, he thought. Tried to tell himself, more like. Deep down, he sometimes wondered if she was right. After all, he spent most of his days trudging through what he was absolutely required to do, just so that he could go to sleep when it was all over and forget that the world existed. Some days it was even a chore to get out of bed to feed Kurtsie Kitty.

"Ok, I know you insist that you're not depressed," said Dr. McNeil. "But certainly there is a hole in your life that Kurt once filled. Surely you can't deny that. From the way you speak of him, I get the feeling that you miss him terribly. And, I obviously don't know Kurt, but my instinct tells me that he probably hasn't exactly disowned you, either. I honestly think that we can only get so far with these sessions. I think a large part of your recovery will start when you finally reach out to him."

_You don't understand, lady. You really don't. I can't just reach out to him. At this point, I think it's safe to say that he's probably moved on with his life without me. If I reach out now, what will that do to his progress? What will it do to both of us? I know that I can't avoid him forever. He's still my baby brother, after all. But... I don't know. Everything is so fucked up and I don't know what to do._

"You should call him," said Dr. McNeil. "I know I say that all the time, but I honestly think you should do it. I think you won't begin to feel better and fight your demons until you do."

Carson left the session that day turning her words over in his mind. He wanted to believe them. Wanted to follow them so badly. He just didn't see how he could do that right now. He just wasn't ready. He was still so fucked up, and even if he did reach out to Kurt... then what? Eventually Kurt would find out about his plethora of problems, and Carson would be even more humiliated than he'd been when his father had found out about his anxiety attacks.

_It's not normal to hate my life this fucking much,_ he thought bitterly as he shuffled his way down the hallway to his apartment. _It's not fair. Why couldn't I have just been given a normal life? I never asked for any of this._

He let himself into the apartment, reaching down to pat Kurtsie Kitty on the head when the cat climbed as far as he could up Carson's leg, his usual greeting when Carson had been gone for a while. "Hey, little guy. Did you behave yourself while I was gone? No shenanigans? No broken objects or scratched furniture? Good," he said, hanging his coat up and settling on the couch with the cat by his side. "Not that I would be mad or anything if you scratched up the furniture. I'd probably just think it was really cute."

The cat ignored him, curling up into a small, furry ball as Carson shrugged and reached for his laptop. He had a hell of a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, after all, and nothing better to do with his time but to get it over with. He opened up his browser, noting that he had one unread email as he glanced at the top of his screen.

_Probably something from that annoying chick in my group for that history project_, he thought with a groan as he clicked on it. _I swear to god, her and Rachel should-_

He stopped his train of thought as he took a look at the body of the email. It wasn't from Annoying Girl at all. It was a notification from Facebook, letting him know that he had been tagged in a video uploaded by his dad.

"What the hell, Dad?" he said out loud as he logged into Facebook. He couldn't imagine what video his dad could have possibly uploaded that involved him, unless maybe it was a new campaign video and he wanted Carson's opinion on it. Yes, that had to be it. He clicked the red notification on his home screen, which took him to the video in question.

_**My Boys Through The Years**_**, **it was titled. _**With- Carson Hummel and Kurt Hummel**_.

Carson swallowed as he stared at the second tagged name. He could tell, obviously, from the title and the thumbnail, that the video was going to be a compilation video of him and Kurt as children, and he wasn't sure if he really had the inner strength right now to deal with that. Especially not after the session he'd had that day with Dr. McNeil. And yet... and yet he really did want to watch it. He missed Kurt so badly. Maybe seeing videos of happier, more innocent times gone by would comfort him a little.

Or wrench his heart out and squeeze it until there wasn't any life left in it. Really, either outcome was possible. All he knew was that he was clicking the play button and his screen was filling with the video. He was in this for the long haul.

The video opened with a steady shot of a colorful play mat on the front lawn of their old house, on which sat a very, very young baby Kurt by himself. Carson knew it was Kurt, because the baby was playing quietly with the set of blocks in front of him and wearing the large white sun bonnet on his head without fussing. Carson had heard enough stories about his own childhood to know that the sun bonnet never stayed long on his head without him trying desperately to claw it off, or, if he couldn't do that, wailing relentlessly until someone took pity on him and took it off.

Baby Kurt played contentedly with his blocks for a minute, and then a pair of legs Carson recognized as their mother's popped into the frame. She absentmindedly set a second baby down on the opposite end of the play mat from Kurt and disappeared from the shot, leaving Baby Carson looking very displeased indeed. Carson watched as the baby version of himself looked around, clearly unhappy with what he saw, because he started whimpering and looking somewhere to the left of the camera while pointing at Kurt.

"Neh!" he screeched. "Eh!" Baby Kurt, who up until now had paid no mind to what was going on behind him, so engrossed was he in his blocks, finally looked over at Carson and broke into a smile and a happy squeal, which ceased Carson's whimpering fast as he returned the smile.

Present day Carson scooped up Kurtsie Kitty into his lap and watched, fascinated, as his former, smaller self looked around one more time and seemed to come to a decision in his little head. He carefully pulled himself up using the edge of a nearby lawn chair and stood shakily on his chubby legs, taking three small, tentative steps in Kurt's direction before tumbling onto his diapered butt. Now closer to Kurt than he'd been before, he smiled and let out a happy "Neeeh" as Kurt handed him a block from his collection and Carson took it and promptly put it in his mouth.

Adult Carson snorted, and the scene changed to the inside of a familiar ballet studio. Seven little girls, including a smaller (and more easily squishable, Carson thought) version of Rachel Berry, were proudly showing off a simple, carefully practiced dance for a small group of parents seated in folding chairs on one end of the room. There was one little boy among them, and Carson smiled fondly as he watched his baby brother flutter happily around the room in his pink tutu, holding a plastic wand with a glittery star on top.

"Look, Carsey," he heard his mother's voice whisper from one side of the camera. "Look, there's your brother. Isn't he doing so well?"

"Kurtsie looks so beautiful," a child's voice whispered back, and Carson felt tears streaming freely down his face as he had to pause the video. He turned his face into a nearby pillow and sobbed, letting it all out until there was nothing left. He wondered later, as he dried his eyes and face on the sleeve of his hoodie, if he should leave a comment, or at least "Like" the video, but decided against it.

_I should call him_, he thought to himself as he buried his face back in the pillow, exhausted. _I should call him, but I don't know how._

* * *

Kurt sat on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest and letting his tears flow as he let the video play on. Truthfully, he'd pretty much lost it as soon as the baby versions of himself and Carson filled his laptop screen, and hadn't stopped crying since. He'd cried through Carson's first steps and through his own first ballet recital. He'd cried as he watched a four year old Carson and himself walk down the street of their old neighborhood dressed in Halloween costumes (Kurt as a giant flower, Carson wearing nothing but a Frankenstein's monster mask). Carson had removed his mask and placed his arm protectively around Kurt as he yelled at an older, taller kid for jumping out of the bushes and scaring Kurt.

"You do _not_ scare my baby brother!" Carson had declared with narrowed eyes. The older kid hadn't done much beyond rolling his eyes, but little Kurt had looked at Carson as though he were the world's greatest superhero.

_He was_, thought Kurt sadly. _He was always MY hero, and that was the important thing._

Now he was crying as he watched himself and Carson on Christmas morning (still four years old, according to the date in the bottom corner). Kurt watched himself unwrap a small, blue sweater, his younger self's eyes lighting up in delight.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, and Carson popped into the frame, smiling at Kurt and pointing at the sweater.

"I helped Mommy pick it out!" he announced proudly. "I told her it matched your eyes and that you would look nice in it."

Little Kurt hugged Little Carson, and then the scene changed again. Seven year old Carson stood before his martial arts instructor, carefully demonstrating his newest skills while someone (their dad, Kurt assumed) filmed it. Kurt watched the younger Carson demonstrate several moves, and then he heard a small, nervous voice from next to the camera.

"Dad, tell me when it's over, please? I can't look. What if he gets hurt?"

"He won't get hurt, buddy. See, look. He's already finished," Burt's voice whispered. Indeed, Carson was bowing in front of the instructor and then hurrying off to the side to make room for the next kid to take their turn. The video ended there, and Kurt stared at the blank screen, trying to process the flood of emotions he was feeling right now. He missed Carson so badly, and he really wished that he hadn't decided to watch the video. That he'd simply "liked" it without watching, because now he was an emotional mess and didn't know what to do with himself.

He clicked the "like" button on the video and left the page open. He waited for several hours for Carson to acknowledge the video in some way, but nothing happened.

_Maybe he didn't even watch it_, Kurt thought sadly. _Maybe he didn't want to be reminded of me in any way._

_It's ok, Carsey. I still love you._

* * *

It took Carson months to work up the courage to call Kurt. Actually, he'd thought he'd been ready around Christmas. He'd even had his phone in hand and ready to push the button to dial Kurt's number, but at the very last second he had chickened out. What if Kurt was actually enjoying his holiday in New York, maybe with that Adam guy? Carson hadn't seen many comments from him on Kurt's Facebook page lately, but that didn't mean much. What if Kurt was having a good time and then Carson called and ruined his whole mood? No, it would be better to wait, Carson decided.

So he waited. And waited. And waited.

He waited until their birthday, in fact, before he felt like it was now or never. Dr. McNeil was still patiently suggesting that he reach out to Kurt. Every fiber of his own being was crying out to him to reach out to Kurt. Telling him that he _needed _ to talk to Kurt, for his own sake.

_What are you going to do, really? Ignore him forever?_ he thought to himself on many a sleepless night as he tossed and turned, sometimes so much so that he caused Kurtsie Kitty to give up and jump off of the bed to seek sleeping arrangements elsewhere. _You do realize that you're his brother and not just his stupid ex-boyfriend, correct? That you're family? How much longer are you going to ignore him just because of a fling you had almost two years ago? _

It wasn't just a fling, though, Carson told himself. It wasn't one, and he knew it. It had been much more than that. They had been in love. They had been making plans and plotting their futures together. How could he call that a mere fling?

He couldn't. But still.

_Ok, so it was significantly more than a fling. But really, Carson, this can't go on forever, and you know it. Think of how terrible it would be to never see him again, or hear his voice, or look into his eyes. Even if it can't be as lovers anymore, do you really want to go through life never interacting with Kurt at all? You've gotten what you wanted. He must surely be over you by now after all this time. I think it's pretty safe now to rebuild a relationship. Besides, if you keep ignoring him further, that will only damage any bond you have left, and you might never be able to repair it. Do you really want that? Do you?_

No, Carson decided. He didn't want that at all. It would be a very long and messy process, but he thought he could do it now. He knew that there was a possibility that Kurt would be pissed and not even want to speak to him, but he had to at least try, or he'd hate himself forever.

Maybe Dr. McNeil was right. Maybe Kurt still cared for him, even after all the hurt he'd put him through.

_For his own good. It was for his own good._

_Kurt might not see it that way, asshole. He might never want to talk to you again, you know._

There was only one way to find out. He had to pick up the fucking phone, grow some balls, and actually go through with calling him this time.

"I'm scared, little guy," he said to Kurtsie Kitty as he settled down on his bed the night of his and Kurt's birthday with his phone. "I'm so fucking scared. I'm scared that he won't want to talk to me. He might not, you know. And you know what? I wouldn't blame him one bit. I wouldn't want to have anything to do with me either, with how much of an asshole I've been to him. And on top of everything that's wrong with me? I'll be lucky if he even bothers to pick up the phone to deny the call."

Kurtsie Kitty looked at him quizzically before jumping off the bed to go play with his scratching post, and Carson sighed as he looked at the button which would connect him to Kurt.

_Just press it, Carson. The worst that will happen is that he'll tell you to fuck off._

_Just do it. Call him_.

He pressed the button before he could lose his nerve and held the phone up to his ear, counting the rings as he waited with a nervous stomach for Kurt to pick up.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

After the fourth ring, the voicemail picked up, and Carson bit back tears as he heard Kurt's voice on the recording.

"Hi, you've reached Kurt Hummel. Unfortunately, I'm not available to take your call, but leave your name and number I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible. _Merci_."

The beep sounded, and Carson took a deep breath, forcing himself to start speaking before he could chicken out and hang up. He wasn't going to back down this time. He was going through with this, come hell or high water.

"Hi, Kurtsie," he said into the phone, pulling his knees up to his chest and feeling his eyes well up with more tears as it hit him that these words would actually reach his twin at some point. "Hi, honey," he said softly, not even bothering to stem the flow of tears. What did it matter now, really?

"Um... I just wanted to say, um... god, I don't even know what I wanted to say, baby. I just... I miss you so much, and I... I'm so sorry," he blurted out through his tears. "I hurt you, and I'm sorry, and I'm an asshole, and I know you probably never want to speak to me again, but I... I just wanted you to know that I still love you. You're still my baby brother and I miss you and I...I... " He was having a hard time getting words out now because he was too busy trying to control his sobs enough to be coherent. "If you don't want to call me back, that's ok. I just wanted you to know that I miss you. And that not a day has gone by all this time where I haven't thought about you and wished that things were different, and I... I'm sorry," he whispered. "I love you."

He hung up the phone, tossing it to the corner of the bed as he hugged his knees and cried. It had felt good, he realized, getting all of that off his chest. He hadn't realized it would be so therapeutic, but it was.

He tried not to focus on waiting for the phone to ring. He tried not to get his hopes up, because he knew full well that Kurt might not even call him back at all. He tried, but he failed. He kept glancing hopefully over at his phone for the rest of the night. He made sure that the ringer was up as loud as it would go before he went to sleep, just in case Kurt called him in the middle of the night. He skipped his morning class, because maybe Kurt was just busy and hadn't heard the message yet, and maybe he'd call today.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

No phone call ever came.

* * *

"We need to talk, Hummel," said Santana, ripping open Kurt's privacy curtain on the afternoon of his birthday and plopping herself down on his bed, legs and arms crossed and a stack of papers in her hand. "It's important, and I'm not leaving until we do."

"Not now, Santana!" Kurt snapped, looking through his closet frantically before moving over to his dresser drawers. "Where is it... god, where the fuck is it?" he muttered to himself, on the verge of tears as he started desperately pulling clothes out and tossing them aside, not even caring where they landed or if they ripped or wrinkled.

"Calm down, Kurt. What the fuck is wrong with you?" asked Santana, eyeing him with alarm. "Did you lose a scarf or someth-"

"Santana, _shut the fuck up_!" Kurt snapped, the volume of his voice startling even himself. "Now is not the fucking time, ok? I... it was here this morning, where _is it_?" he muttered, looking around the now trashed room and pulling at his hair.

"Kurt, _calm down_," Santana insisted, crossing over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders. "You're about to have a damn heart attack. Seriously, calm your tits. What are you looking for that's so important?"

Kurt took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. She really did look concerned, which wasn't a look he was used to seeing on her very often. "My teddy bear is missing," he said quietly, feeling his bottom lip quiver as he said it.

"Say what now?" asked Santana. "Your _what_ is missing?"

Kurt let out a shaky sigh. "My teddy bear. The one that Carson gave to me, with the sweatshirt. He usually sits on my bed, and he was there this morning when I left for work, but now he's gone, and I... I don't know where he is but I have to find him because it's important and it's the only thing that I have left of him..."

Santana pulled him into a hug as he started to cry, rubbing soft circles into his back as she held him. "Shhh. Kurt, it... it's ok. I mean, it's a teddy bear. It couldn't have gone far. It's got to be around here somewhere. Did you check under the bed? Maybe he fell."

Kurt let out a snort into Santana's shoulder as he realized that no, he hadn't checked there. He felt like a complete idiot as he pulled away from her and knelt down, lifting his bedspread up and checking under the bed. Sure enough, there was Carsey Teddy, laying among some boxes and a few dust bunnies. He quickly retrieved the bear and dusted him off before hugging him tightly to his chest.

"How did he get under there?" he said out loud, looking curiously from the bed to the floor. "He never fell before."

"I don't know, Kurt. Floodwater Pants is always in and out of here getting his shit," said Santana dryly. "Maybe he screwed with it."

Kurt sighed and adjusted Carsey Teddy's hoodie. She had a point. He'd known that it was a bad idea from the start to let Blaine stay. The initial "few months" that Blaine had promised had swelled into nine, with no end in sight. Nine months in which Blaine had essentially been invading his personal space every chance he got. And Kurt couldn't do anything about it for fear of what Blaine would do to Carson in retaliation.

So he'd been gritting his teeth and taking it as Blaine made remarks about the tightness of his pants every morning. Taking it as Blaine kept half his stuff in Kurt's room, claiming that there wasn't enough room in his own, even though Kurt knew he did it just so he had an excuse to walk in unannounced, usually when he knew that Kurt was changing his clothes (which he had taken to doing in the bathroom lately with the door locked to avoid being leered at). Taking it as Blaine claimed, repeatedly, that he was having such a hard time finding another place, and he would have to stay "Just a few more months." Taking it as Adam suddenly stopped wanting to spend quite so much time with him, which Kurt highly suspected was caused by Blaine making him feel as uncomfortable and unwelcome as possible every time he was over at the loft.

Sometimes Kurt just really wanted to run away. Especially now, as he looked down at his slightly dusty teddy bear and wondered if Santana was right. Maybe Blaine had tossed Carsey Teddy under the bed on purpose.

"Anyway, forget your teddy bear for a minute, ok? I have shit to tell you, and I want to do it before Blanderson gets home from class," Santana said, sitting back down on the bed and patting the spot beside her. Kurt sat, clutching Carsey Teddy tightly and watching as she held up the pile of papers she had entered the room with.

"What are those?" he asked curiously.

"Evidence that Gelmet is a fucking psycho freak," she replied, shoving the top piece of paper into Kurt's face. It was a printed out email addressed to Blaine from his college.

"How did you get this?" he asked, taking the paper from her.

"I hacked his laptop. Does that really matter right now? Read the damn thing!" she demanded, jabbing a finger at the body of the email. Kurt scanned it, sucking in a breath as he realized that it was from the student housing department, congratulating Blaine on being accepted into the dormitories and proceeding to list his assigned building and parking space.

"Clearly he was lying his fucking ass off when he told you he didn't have a space in the dorms," Santana said irritably. "The rest of these papers are pictures of you doing stuff around the apartment, by the way. And then we have this," she continued, pulling an envelope from the bottom of the stack of paper. "I intercepted his mail today. The little fucker has been getting checks from Mommy and Daddy every month this whole time, for a fuck of a lot of money. He could more than afford to get an apartment in the city. Hell, he could afford a McMansion in Lima Heights... why do you not look as shocked as I think you should look right now?"

Kurt swallowed, tearing his eyes away from the printed out photo of himself bending over to pick up a fallen piece of trash. "Because I'm not shocked," he said with a resigned sigh. "I kind of figured he was lying the whole time."

Santana stared at him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Ok, color me fucking confused. Why the fuck have you and Berry been letting him stay here for so long, then? Please give me one good reason why you haven't tossed him out after kicking him square in the warblers."

"Because I can't, ok?" Kurt blurted out. "I can't, because he... he said he'd..."

Santana looked alarmed. "He said he'd what, Kurt? Did he threaten you?"

Kurt swallowed and hugged Carsey Teddy tighter. "Well... not me, exactly. He... he said he'd go to the police and tell them that Carson beat him."

Santana closed her eyes. "Clearly I've missed a hell of a lot. Carson _beat_ him? When?"

"The night of the lightning strike," answered Kurt miserably. "Blaine showed up here and Carson beat him pretty badly, and... and I don't trust Blaine _not_ to tell the police. He said he has pictures of his bruises, and... I can't do that to Carson, Santana. I can't let him be arrested when I have the power to do something about it."

Santana pursed her lips and looked straight ahead at the wall. "That little fucker. As soon as I get my hands on him, I am going to go all Lima Heights..."

"Santana, don't! Please," Kurt pleaded, his heart skipping a beat as he heard the apartment door open and close, indicating that Blaine was back from class. "You can't say anything. I don't want him to get pissed and turn Carson in."

"But Kurt-"

"Santana, _don't_," he reiterated, heading out to the kitchen to retrieve his phone and leaving Santana looking thoughtfully at the check in her hand.

He reached the kitchen in time to see Blaine holding his phone, pressing buttons carefully and looking up sheepishly as Kurt walked in. "I'm sorry, I needed to copy the number of the pizza place off of your contacts," he said smoothly, handing Kurt his phone back. Kurt took it with a blank expression.

"Whatever," he said, taking his phone back to his room and yanking the privacy curtain closed. Santana was still sitting on the bed, looking like she had something up her sleeve, although Kurt was too terrified to ask her what.

"Do you mind?" he asked, trying to insert some of his classic bitch tone into his voice. "I'm kind of tired, and I don't sleep with girls."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry," replied Santana, gathering up her papers. "I'll just be going then." He could have sworn he heard her add something that sounded like "Put a stop to this shit" as she let herself out, but he decided he'd heard wrong.

* * *

Carson slowly awakened and blinked his eyes, wondering who the hell was knocking on his apartment door this early on a Saturday morning. He really hoped it wasn't his dad. Or Mrs. Moore wanting to offer him some homemade muffins. He was pretty sure that was a double entendre every time she did it, and it made him super uncomfortable.

"Hold your shit, I'm coming," he muttered grumpily as the knocking grew insistent. He shuffled out of the bedroom, almost tripping over Kurtsie Kitty on his way, and yanked the door open. He wasn't sure who he was expecting, exactly, but it sure as fuck wasn't Santana Lopez, who pushed her way in as soon as the door was open a crack and stood there in his hallway, her arms crossed and glaring at him.

"We need to have a chat, Carson," she announced.

"Santana?" he said, still half awake and confused. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm here to fix your goddamn relationship," she said, finding her way into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. "Pull up a chair, Hummel One. This might take a while."

He didn't know what else to do but obey her, pulling up the chair across from her and blinking at her tiredly.

"Ok, Carson, here's the deal. I'm going to talk, and you're going to fucking listen," she announced, crossing her legs and folding her hands on the table in front of her. "I have something that I like to call my psychic Mexican third eye. I can't remember if I've ever told you about it, but that's not important. What _is_ important is that it's never failed me. And I think I can trust it to be right when it tells me that _you_, and not Kurt, were responsible for the breakup."

"Wait, how the fuck do you know about the..."

Santana rolled her eyes. "I've been _living_ with Kurt for over a year now, Carson. You'd know this if you ever bothered to answer my calls. Keep up. Now, at first, I could have sworn that Kurt was the guilty party here, especially since he was spending every waking moment with Buckingham Palace, but no. It occurred to me that not once had I ever seen them act in a romantic fashion. In fact, Kurt seemed pretty hung up on you. Do you know how many times he cried himself to sleep? It was a lot. Sound carries in that loft. Actually, he's taken to crying a _lot_. It's like living with someone with constant PMS. In fact, just the other day, he was panicking and about to blow his heart out because he couldn't find that creepy teddy bear version of you that he sleeps with every night."

Carson blinked, trying to absorb everything she was saying at once. _Kurt cries himself to sleep? What..._

"Can you slow down a second?" he asked, rubbing his temples. "I..."

"No. I'm not finished. Prick up your ears," she snapped. "So _anyway_, I sort of put two and two together here. People who end relationships don't spend two goddamn years crying over it. But people who were broken up with just might do that. Now, I'm gonna ask you and you're gonna give me a truthful answer. Did you or did you not break up with Kurt?"

Carson looked down at his hands, wondering what the fuck was happening here, exactly. "I did," he answered quietly. "But you don't understand-"

He got no further, because he was interrupted by Santana's hand reaching across the table and smacking him across the face.

"Ow! What the fuck, Santana?" he exclaimed, rubbing his face and glaring at her.

"What do you mean, what the fuck?" she retorted. "Do you have _any_ idea what Kurt has been through, especially in the past year? Jesus, Carson. _Why_ would you break up with him? I thought you were in love with him! Scratch that, I _know_ you were in love with him. I saw you cry over it enough fucking times over the years. And he still loves you, so what the _fuck_?"

"Santana, you don't understand, ok?" Carson snapped, finally gaining his brain function now that he was fully awake. "You don't know shit. You wanna know why I broke up with Kurt? _Look around you_. Seriously, take a good, long look. Take a look at what _I've_ been going through for the past two years, hmm? See the messy apartment? That's because I don't have the energy to clean it very often. In fact, I barely have the energy or even the desire to get out of bed most days, unless it's to feed the cat. I drag my ass to classes, and then I come home and I just want to forget that everything and everyone exists. Look at _me_. I'm not even a fucking shell of who I used to be. The goddamn lightning took _everything._ I can't be out in the rain anymore without panicking so bad that I want to die. I look at myself in the mirror every morning and I tell myself "I hate you. You disgust me, and the world would be better off without you." Do you honestly think that I want Kurt to have to put up with me like that? Breaking up with him hurt like hell, but it was the _only thing I could do_. It was the only way that I could save him from me and give him his freedom. I just... I..."

Santana just looked at him, her eyes wide as she seemed to be really taking in Carson's appearance for the first time. He knew she was noticing the bags under his eyes, his scruff, the fact that his clothes hung on him so loosely. He could literally see her take it all in before she spoke again.

"Carson," she said quietly. "Hon... you need help. If even half of what you just said is the truth, you _really _need help. You need _Kurt_."

"No!" he bellowed, standing up and pounding his fist on the table. "No, that's the last thing I want. I don't want him to see me like this, and he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, anyway. I tried calling him on our birthday and he never answered, and you know what? I don't blame him!" He felt tears pricking at his eyes, and he swallowed as he let them fall, deciding that he didn't give a shit if Santana saw him cry.

"Carson," she said, reaching across the table for his hand.

"No," he said, yanking his hand back. "No, you have to promise me. You have to fucking promise you won't tell him. Please. _Please._"

Santana looked at him carefully before getting up from the table. She walked around it and pulled Carson into a tight hug. It had been so long since he'd been hugged, he didn't know what to do at first. He just let her hug him, and then she let go of him, looking into his eyes with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, Carson," she said. She reached up one hand to pat his cheek before heading for the apartment door.

"Santana, you have to promise!" he shouted desperately after her. "Please! I... you can't..._PLEASE!"_

The only answer he received was the sound of his apartment door slamming shut behind her.

_No... no, no no, fuck... oh god, she's going to tell him everything. FUCK._

_FUUUUUCK._

* * *

"Kurt, can, um... can I talk to you for a second?" asked Blaine, peeking through Kurt's privacy curtain as Kurt slowly awakened from the dream he'd been having. It had been a good one. Him and Carson had been kissing in a field of tulips, and Carson had told him he loved him.

"Blaine, it's fucking seven in the morning," Kurt snapped, cranky at being pulled out of his dream before he was ready. "Can't this wait?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine replied, nodding. "I'll give you some time to get up."

"Gee, what a goddamn gentleman," Kurt mumbled as he heard Blaine's footsteps cross the apartment.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, thinking, not for the first time in recent memory, how much he hated his life. Especially over the past weekend, in which he'd been left alone with Blaine almost the entire time because Rachel was busy rehearsing for a showcase and Santana had gone out of town, saying she was meeting her mom in Florida for a spa weekend. So it had been just Blaine and Kurt for most of the weekend.

At least Blaine had kept mostly to himself, except for a brief moment on Saturday morning when Kurt had heard him tiptoe into the bedroom and root around, as though looking for something. He'd felt Blaine staring at him for a good ten minutes while he pretended to be asleep, but he had left after that, and had pretty much left Kurt alone for the rest of the weekend.

The ringing of his phone interrupted Kurt's thoughts as he heard Blaine step into the shower. He rolled over and took the phone from his nightstand, rolling his eyes when he saw Santana's name pop up on the caller I.D.

"Hi, Santana," he grumbled groggily into the phone.

"Don't talk. Just listen," she replied. "Don't be pissed at me, ok?"

Kurt felt nervous at her tone of voice. "That depends, what did you do?"

"I might have been in Chicago all weekend tracking down your brother," she replied. "I stole the money from Bowties, since he's rolling in it. He'll never miss it."

"You _what_?" Kurt exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed. "Santana, what the fuck? Is... is Carson there? Are you with him?"

"No, he's at home, and I'm on my way to the airport to catch my flight back to New York, but Kurt, listen to me. Ok? Just listen. You need to go to him. Like, immediately," she said. Something about her voice sounded so insistent, and Kurt felt a knot form in his stomach.

"What's going on?" he asked nervously. "Is he ok?"

"Kurt... I don't know," she answered quietly. "I really don't. He just seemed so... I can't even describe it. God, Kurt, he's so skinny, and I don't know..." She sounded uncharacteristically concerned, and Kurt felt his stomach start to turn to ice.

"What are you saying, Santana?" he asked.

"I'm saying that he fucking _needs_ you. He still loves you. And that if you wait too long, I don't know. It might be too late," she replied seriously.

"What do you mean _too late_?" Kurt asked her, his voice gaining pitch as the ice block in his stomach solidified further. "What's the matter with him?"

"Trust me, Kurt. Just go to him. Please," said Santana. "Look, I have to go. I'll see you at home."

"No...Santana..._Santana_!" Kurt exclaimed into the phone, but it was too late. She had already hung up.

_What the hell does she mean, it will be too late? What's going on? Fuck it, I'm going to Chicago. I don't care if he doesn't want to see me. He's GOING to see me, and we're going to fix this one way or the other._

He was busy on his laptop booking the first available ticket he could find to Chicago when his privacy curtain opened again and Blaine stepped into the room, looking nervous.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked with a sigh.

"Um..." Blaine said, clearing his throat. "Actually, I had something to, um... to discuss with you. If it's alright."

"Like I have a choice," Kurt murmured, finalizing his ticket with the click of a button. "Make it quick, I have an errand to run in a couple of hours."

"Um, ok," said Blaine. "Can I sit?"

"Whatever," Kurt replied, waving Blaine his permission to sit on the bed, which the other boy did. He sat there looking nervous for several minutes until another sigh from Kurt apparently sprung him into action.

"Look, Kurt," he said, toying absentmindedly with the corner of Kurt's bedspread. "Um... ok, I know that I'm not exactly your favorite person in the world, and that I've kind of been a pain while I've been living here."

"You don't say," replied Kurt, wishing that Blaine would hurry the hell up and state his business so that he could start packing for his flight.

"Ahem. Anyway. Um, I can't help but notice that you appear to still be single," Blaine continued, blushing as he rushed through his sentence.

Kurt rubbed the bridge of his nose in disbelief. "Blaine, what the hell? How much clearer do I need to-"

"I wanted to give you a promise ring," Blaine said in a rush, interrupting Kurt and reaching clumsily into his pocket. "I know that you don't exactly like me right now, but I thought maybe this ring would... I don't know... symbolize that I'm going to try to work on myself, and that maybe one day you'd, um... consider marrying me?"

Kurt blinked at Blaine, wondering how exactly this fucking circus before him had become his life. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me, Blaine? Are you really _proposing_ right now?"

"Well..."

"After everything you... and... when I said..." Kurt was almost speechless with anger and disbelief rolled into one. "You have got some steel balls, I'll give you that... I told you... in the fucking _hospital_, I told you, and you... I..."

"Yeah, that," Blaine said sheepishly. "I'm sorry about that, Kurt. After Rachel told me where you were that night and what had happened, I guess I really didn't have time to let it sink in before-"

"Wait," Kurt interrupted, something suddenly clicking in his brain. He had no idea what made him think of it, but he suddenly remembered when Rachel had asked him to go with her to Lima to see _Grease_.

"_You haven't seen Blaine since that night at the piano bar_," she'd said. It had struck Kurt as odd then, really bothered him for a while, actually, and now he remembered why.

_If Rachel thought I hadn't seen him since the night we broke up, then she couldn't have directed him to the hospital, so... if no one told him, how did he know..._

"Blaine," he said slowly as a disturbing thought occurred to him. "Blaine... did you... did you _see_ the lightning strike Carson?"

The way Blaine's eyes widened before he looked uncomfortably down at his feet told Kurt all he needed to know.

"Get out," he said in a low voice.

"Kurt, wait..."

"No. Get out. _Get out_!" Kurt screamed, picking up a nearby pillow and throwing it at Blaine. "Get out of my room _now_!"

Blaine scurried quickly out of the room, and Kurt sprung into action. He got up out of bed and dragged his suitcase out of the closet, tossing clothes in as fast as humanly possible. He printed out his order confirmation for his ticket, quickly got dressed, and dragged his hurriedly packed suitcase out of the room and across the apartment.

"Kurt... Kurt, come on... where are you going?" asked Blaine.

"None of your business," Kurt snapped angrily. "Don't even look at me right now. I have to go." He pulled the door open and stormed out of the apartment building, catching the first cab he saw passing by.

"Where to?" the cab driver asked in a bored voice once Kurt had shoved his suitcase into the trunk and slid into the backseat.

"JFK. As fast as possible, please," said Kurt, leaning his forehead against the window as the cab began to drive.

_I'm coming, Carsey. I'm coming, and I'm fixing this. Whether you want me to or not._

_Because I love you._


	35. Chapter 35

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wheeeee, an update in less than a week. And we think you're gonna like this one. ^_^ As usual, we love you all and you really treasure every review and comment we receive. *Hugs* Let's read, shall we?**

Kurt was a nervous wreck all the way to the airport and throughout the entire flight to Chicago. He couldn't stop turning Santana's words over and over again in his mind. .

"_You need to go to him."_

_"He's so skinny."_

_"He needs you."_

_"He still loves you."_

_"If you wait, it might be too late."_

What did she mean, Kurt wondered, terrified to know the answer to that question, and yet knowing that he had no choice but to find out. Santana had sounded so worried and concerned, and to say that this scared the shit out of Kurt would be a massive understatement. It wasn't like Santana to seriously show concern without attaching some kind of snark to it, so to hear her talk that way, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice at all, when she had just seen Carson... Kurt didn't even want to think about what that meant.

And Blaine... Kurt didn't want to think about him, either, because the very memory of their last conversation filled him with so much rage, and he didn't know what to do with it. Blaine had seen Carson get hit with the lightning bolt that night. He'd _seen _it, and yet he wasn't anywhere to be found when Kurt ran outside. Kurt would have remembered seeing him if he'd been there, he was quite sure of that. Kurt hadn't yet let himself really absorb what that meant, but it was slowly sinking in with sickening clarity.

Blaine had seen what happened to Carson, and he'd chosen to do nothing. He hadn't checked on him, or at the very least called for help. Apparently, he'd chosen to walk away, leaving Carson alone and, for all Blaine knew, leaving him to die. Kurt had spent the better part of the last two years living with someone who had been willing to, even indirectly, murder his brother, and he felt sick to his stomach when he thought about it. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt anger like what he was currently feeling. He didn't know that it was possible to hate someone as much as he hated Blaine Anderson right now, and the only thing keeping him even appearing calm for the rest of his flight was the thought of seeing Carson's face again. No matter how disappointed the face in question might look to see him.

_I'm coming, Carsey. I don't know what's going on, but we're going to talk whether you like it or not, honey. I was an idiot to let it go on this long. It's time._

It felt like forever before his plane finally landed, and he wasted no time collecting his luggage and hurrying out into the city streets, hailing the first cab he could manage to get to stop for him. He'd check into a hotel first, he decided. Just to drop off his things and collect his thoughts a little before he dropped in on Carson. Truthfully, he was a little scared at what his twin's reaction would be when Kurt showed up unexpectedly at his door. Would he be happy to see him? Angry? Would he even be home? He pressed his face against the window as the cab drove him to a hotel, gazing out onto the busy streets and searching every passing stranger's face to see if it was Carson.

_He could be anywhere_, Kurt thought, his stomach twisting into a knot. _He could be walking down one of these streets right now. I could see him at any second._

He didn't see him, though, and he felt a little disappointed as he exited the cab before the disappointment turned into relief. He didn't know what he would have done even if he _had_ seen Carson on the street. It was better this way, for sure.

He checked into his hotel, dragging his suitcase into his room and settling it against the wall without bothering to unpack it. He crossed to the large mirror in the center of the wall and took a good look at himself. His clothes were a little wrinkled from the flight, and his hair was slightly mussed, but other than those things and a seemingly permanent expression of worry plastered on his face, no matter how much he tried to relax, he thought he looked relatively ok.

_Alright_, he thought as he re-styled his hair with his fingers. _I'm going to knock on Carson's door, and I'm going to very calmly and rationally tell him that we need to talk. He'll probably not want to see me, but... god, I don't know what I'll do if he yells at me to go away, but... Ok, Kurt, don't think about that. That's the worst case scenario and... it probably won't happen, so... just calm down. You'll talk to Carson. If nothing else, you'll finally have the answer to all the questions you've been asking yourself all this time. It won't be much, but it will be a start._

_Who knows? Maybe someday you can even be brothers again._

He gamely repeated this speech silently to himself as he exited his room and hailed another cab, giving the driver the address of Carson's building and wringing his hands nervously as he was driven closer and closer to the person he still loved more than life itself. He almost didn't even notice when the cab stopped in front of a dingy looking brick building.

"We're here," the cab driver announced.

_So we are_, Kurt thought with a gulp as he paid the driver and stepped out, looking up at the building warily. _This is it. Oh god, this is it. Carson is in there. He's in there, and I'm going to be seeing him in about two minutes, and oh god my stomach hurts._

He pulled open the door of the building, noting that it didn't seem to have any security features whatsoever to keep non-residents out, and feeling appalled that his precious twin had lived there for so long with nothing preventing a murderer from coming in and doing what they wanted. He quickly forgot about this, though, as he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button that would take him to Carson's floor.

_It'll be fine,_ he reassured himself as the elevator transported him. _The worst that will happen is that he'll tell you to get lost. At the very least you'll see his face. That's something._

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Kurt stepped out, looking around briefly to determine which direction Carson's apartment was in before heading down the correct hallway. His breath caught in his throat as he approached his brother's door, and he stood outside of it for a good ten minutes, trying to get himself to breathe normally and work up the courage to knock.

_Breathe, Kurt. Just breathe._

Before he could lose his nerve, he lifted his hand and rapped on the door. _Oh god, I've done it_, he thought, his stomach so twisted by now that it might as well have been a pretzel. _Any second now, he's going to..._

He heard the sound of a chain lock being moved, and then the door flew open, revealing Carson's face to Kurt for the first time in almost two years. Kurt forgot all about breathing as he gasped a little, his eyes roaming over his twin as he took in his appearance. Carson looked very tired. There were unmistakable dark circles under his eyes. He had at least a few days worth of scruff on his face, and he definitely looked like he'd lost weight, Kurt thought as he noted how loosely his brother's hoodie and pajama pants hung on him. And yet, despite this, he was _Carson_. He was real and he was there, and he was close enough to touch if Kurt wanted.

The emotions inside of Kurt swirled into a veritable tornado of feelings as he stood there staring at Carson, who stared back at him, looking absolutely stricken. He didn't know what to feel, because he was feeling so many things at once that it was difficult to focus on one thing. He was so happy that he wanted to cry. He was also sad and angry and nervous and a host of other emotions that he didn't know how to deal with, and he wanted to speak, to say anything at all, but he couldn't. Nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He just stood there, staring at his twin and having absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

"Kurtsie," Carson whispered, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, and that single word, the word Kurt had missed hearing for so long, finally snapped him into action. He still couldn't speak. He wasn't sure he even knew how to anymore. So he did the only thing he could think of to do.

He surged forward and connected his lips with Carson's, catching them in a rough, desperate kiss.

* * *

He'd been sure that it was Santana on the other side of the door. He'd _hoped_ it was her, actually, because ever since the previous day when she'd dropped in on him and basically shattered the guard he'd so carefully constructed around his life over the past two years, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been reduced to a panicked mess from the second she had left his apartment without promising not to tell Kurt everything she'd seen.

"She's going to tell," he'd muttered to himself quietly as he slumped to the floor, leaning up against the wall and taking in gasping breaths not unlike the ones he experienced when he was deep in the throes of a full blown panic attack. He hugged his knees to his chest and rocked against the wall, hitting his head against it with every rock back.

"She's going to tell... Kurt will know... oh god, everything will be ruined... she's going to ruin everything," he whimpered to himself as Kurtsie Kitty looked at him curiously and then curled up in his lap. "I worked so hard to keep it from him and she's going to... she can't... she has no right... FUUUUUCK," he'd shouted into the empty apartment, his own voice echoing off the walls back to him and sending the cat scurrying for a hiding place.

He'd spent hours there on the floor, rocking and hugging his knees, desperately wishing to just be erased from existence entirely. Anything was better than living with such panic and despair. He thought about the bottle of anti-depressants that now resided in his bathroom cabinet alongside the anti-anxiety medicine. He'd finally agreed to be put on them not even a week prior, but little did Dr. McNeil know that he hadn't even cracked open the bottle yet. He felt like doing so would be admitting defeat to himself, so he hadn't done it.

_Maybe I should have_, he thought miserably as night fell and the apartment grew dark, and still he stayed against the wall. _Maybe then this wouldn't be killing me as much as it is._

_Maybe._

Eventually he had gotten up and tried to coax Kurtsie Kitty out from where he was hiding under the couch.

"Come on, little guy. Come on out. I'm sorry I scared you, sweetie," he said gently, offering his hand for Kurtsie Kitty to inspect. The cat had licked his finger, but had refused to move. Carson didn't really blame him. He wouldn't want to hang out with himself, either.

_Oh well_, he thought as he left some food in Kurtsie Kitty's dish and then headed to bed. _I should just get used to everyone knowing I'm a useless freak. It's the truth, after all._

He hadn't slept at all that night. He'd tossed and turned for hours, staying in bed long after the sun had come up and morning had turned to noon. He'd only gotten out of bed and into the shower for something to break the monotony. And then, just as he had finished getting dressed, there was a knock on the door.

_It's Santana_, he thought as he trudged through the apartment to answer the knock. _Please, it has to be Santana. She's going to tell me that she'll keep her mouth shut. I'll beg if I have to. I will. God, I'll do anything, but she CAN'T tell Kurt, she just..._

He swung the door open, ready to plead his case with Santana, but it wasn't her standing there on the other side. It was Kurt. _Kurt_ was standing there, and Carson was struck speechless. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. He couldn't even form any sort of coherent thought as he stood there and stared into the familiar blue eyes he knew and loved so well.

_Oh god, is it really him? Kurt... oh god, it's Kurt. He's here. He's really here and he looks so handsome, and baby I love you so much, I always did. I never wanted to be apart from you or put you through so much, and I bet you really fucking hate me right now, and I don't blame you. I hate me, too... if I just reached out a little, I could touch you if I wanted, oh god..._

"Kurtsie," he whispered, not really daring to believe that his twin really was standing there in front of him. Kurt just stood there staring at him, opening his mouth as if to speak and then closing it again. _Maybe he's trying to think of the right words to tell me how pissed he is at me..._

That was Carson's last semi-coherent thought before he suddenly found himself being ambushed by a pair of pillowy soft lips, coated in the strawberry lip balm that he remembered so vividly. Snippets of thoughts raced through his brain (_What is he doing here?... he's kissing me... oh GOD, he's kissing me... why isn't he yelling at me?... _), and he wanted to ask Kurt those questions. He really did, but he seemed to have forgotten how. Instinct took over, and he deepened the kiss automatically, gasping into Kurt's mouth when he felt his twin's hands grip him firmly around the waist.

_Make me yours_ was all he could think as Kurt pushed him back into the apartment and slammed the door shut with his foot, their lips not parting for a second.

* * *

Kurt had absolutely no idea what had come over him. He really didn't. One minute he had been ready to at least try to have a rational conversation with Carson, and the next he was pushing his twin inside the apartment, quickly shutting the door behind them before backing Carson up against the nearest wall. He pinned him there, his hands firm around Carson's waist as he continued kissing him desperately. It was messy and sloppy, and there was definitely more teeth involved than lips at first. Kurt caught Carson's bottom lip between his teeth and Carson let out a strangled moan, his arms flying up to wrap around Kurt's neck as Kurt pressed their bodies as close together as they could possibly get.

_Oh god, I've missed this so much, _he thought as he worked his lips down Carson's jawline, nipping at the skin in between kisses as Carson threw his head back to give Kurt better access. He wasn't even consciously thinking much about what was happening. Everything was happening on autopilot. It was as if every moment of sadness he'd felt all this time... all the despair and the anger and missing Carson so much he could die... all of those emotions were manifesting in this. In the way he was kissing his way down Carson's neck, stopping to suck a mark into the sensitive skin where his twin's neck met his shoulder. In the way Carson held onto Kurt's neck for dear life, crying out at the contact of Kurt's lips on his skin. In the way Kurt grabbed Carson's legs, hoisting them up so that they were wrapped around his waist as they desperately pawed at each other. They both panted for breath as Kurt clung to Carson and pressed himself closer, moaning as he felt his twin hardening against him, even through all the layers of clothes.

"Carson, I..." he gasped out between kisses, not quite knowing how he was planning to finish that sentence, because there were just _so many_ things to say, and how would he even know where to begin? Not that it mattered, because he was cut off anyway by Carson's lips pressing insistently against his own, and then his twin was staring intently at him, meeting him eye to matching eye. He didn't say anything, but Kurt could see the pleading in his eyes. The look that said _Please. Don't let go._

"Bedroom?" Kurt said at last, grinding his hips down into Carson as he caught his lips in another rough kiss.

"Mmmph... there," Carson mumbled against Kurt's lips, pointing in the right direction, and Kurt began swiftly walking that way, holding Carson up and kissing him the whole time as Carson clung to him desperately, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around him and both of them growing harder by the second. He was pretty sure he knocked down several things while blindly searching for the bedroom, and when at last he found it he laid Carson down quickly on top of the messy, unmade bed, draping himself on top of him and pressing close. So close that he could feel Carson's heart beating. Alive. Here. In the same room. _This is really real._

There were no words exchanged beyond that point. The room was only filled with the sound of heavy breathing and moaning as lips and teeth nipped at skin and their hands clumsily fumbled with each other's clothes. Kurt hooked his fingers under the hem of Carson's hoodie, pulling it up and over his twin's head and tossing it aside without bothering to unzip it first. He only had the briefest of seconds to take in how skinny his twin had gotten before shaking hands were quickly but carefully removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

_Right. We're doing this_, Kurt thought as he took over the unbuttoning and removed his own shirt and undershirt before working on his pants. For the first time in his life, he threw his clothes aside, not even caring where they went as he pressed himself back down on to Carson. He attacked his twin's neck with his lips, kissing and sucking at the skin while one hand toyed with his nipple and the other shoved its way roughly down Carson's pants, palming his erection over the fabric of his underwear. Carson cried out and arched into the touch, his nails scratching desperately at Kurt's back.

"Kurt," he gasped out, thrusting up against the pressure of Kurt's hand. "Kurtsie..."

That name again. Kurt couldn't describe exactly what came over him when he heard Carson utter it. All he knew was that he suddenly felt even more possessive and like he just had to have Carson right then and there, as soon as humanly possible.

"We need... _mmph_... we need something for lube," he gasped against Carson's skin, and Carson wiggled free from Kurt's grasp enough to turn over on his stomach and reach into the drawer of his bedside table. He rooted around in it for a minute before producing a half empty bottle of lube, shoving it into Kurt's hand. Kurt briefly wondered, with a strange feeling of curiosity and jealousy, why his twin had lube, but he forgot all about it as he watched Carson, still on his stomach, swiftly removing his own pants and underwear and throwing them off the bed.

"Please," he whined, his voice muffled by a pillow. "Kurtsie, please."

Everything civilized in Kurt snapped then, utterly broken. He had no concept of rational thought anymore. Primal instinct had taken over, and he pressed a hand into the small of Carson's back to keep him where he was.

"Stay there," he commanded, surprised by the forcefulness of his own voice. "Stay on your stomach." Carson obeyed, not moving except to elevate his ass, offering himself to Kurt with a moan that went straight to Kurt's already rock hard dick, which was still trapped tightly in his underwear. He uncapped the lube bottle and poured a generous amount over his fingers, using his index finger to briefly circle Carson's entrance before pushing in past the tight ring of muscle.

"Uuungh, oh god," Carson moaned, his face still buried in pillows as his muscles contracted deliciously around Kurt's finger. Kurt bit his lip, watching as his finger disappeared in and out of Carson and desperate for the moment when it would be _him_. He kept going until he met no resistance, and then he added a second finger, crooking both fingers up until he'd found the spot he knew would make Carson fall apart.

"Uuuuh," Carson screamed into the pillow, pushing back against Kurt's fingers wantonly. "Uh... uh... _fuck_..."

Kurt kept going, working his way up to a third finger until he felt like Carson was prepared enough. He couldn't wait any longer. It wasn't just that he was achingly horny now, although he was, because Carson laid out like this, waiting for him, was doing things to him that he couldn't ever remember feeling in his entire life. It wasn't just that. It was the fact that this was _real_, and Carson was here and waiting for him... clearly wanted him to take him... after so long apart... he didn't even know what was happening anymore. He just let it happen.

He removed his fingers from Carson, uncapping the lube bottle again and swiftly removing his underwear. His achingly hard dick sprung free, where it hit his stomach with a dab of leaking pre-come. Clearly, this wasn't going to last long. He slicked himself up and dabbed more lube around Carson's hole before lining himself up.

"I love you," he whispered as he pushed his way inside, slowly but forcefully. Carson gasped, his hands flying out in front of him to grip at the headboard as Kurt draped himself over him. He planted a small, gentle kiss between Carson's shoulder blades and then started thrusting, all semblance of gentleness gone and forgotten. He fucked him with wild abandon, his hands slipping underneath Carson to clutch at his chest as his hips worked relentlessly. He didn't even feel like himself anymore. He felt like some kind of animal as he continued thrusting wildly into Carson, who was laying there submissively taking it, his gasps and moans of pleasure muffled as he kept his head firmly buried in the pillows. Kurt felt him shifting rhythmically beneath him and he realized that his twin was humping the sheets below them, probably desperate for friction and relief.

_God, Carson_, he thought as he shifted his hips and gave a hard thrust right where he knew it would hit Carson's sweet spot. He was right. Carson's shoulders tensed and he screamed as he shuddered beneath Kurt for several seconds before relaxing, sinking loose and pliant into the mattress as Kurt continued fucking him. It didn't take very much longer for Kurt to follow him over the edge, and his hips stilled as he bit down into the flesh of Carson's shoulder and came, his dick pulsing and shooting his seed deep inside of his precious twin.

He didn't know what to do once the high of orgasm had come down. His brain came back online and he realized that he was draped naked on top of Carson, who was laying completely still underneath him, taking huge, heaving breaths.

_Oh, shit_, Kurt thought to himself, carefully pulling out of Carson and rolling off of him. _This wasn't at all the way it was supposed to go. God, Kurt, can't you ever get anything right? You came here to TALK to him, not fuck him without even giving him the chance to say anything... and you were so ROUGH..._

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at Carson, who hadn't moved since they'd finished. He was still on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows, although his breathing had slowed considerably. Kurt gingerly reached out a hand and placed it on his twin's shoulder, expecting Carson to recoil from the touch. Or maybe sit up and yell at him. He didn't do either of those things. If anything, he relaxed into the touch a little, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. _Maybe... maybe he's not as pissed as he should be about what just happened? Oh god, please?_

"Carsey?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Carsey, I... um..."

Carson sucked in a breath, and Kurt wasn't sure, but it sounded as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. _Oh god, what have I done?_ "Carsey, can we talk about..."

Carson lifted his head from the pillows and turned it to look at Kurt. Kurt took in the sight of his twin's face, the dark circles and hollowness in his cheeks making him feel even guiltier.

"No... I... not now... can we just..." Carson breathed out in a broken voice, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't want to talk right now. Can we just... can you just hold me?" That last part was whispered so low that Kurt could barely hear it.

"Don't you want to clean up first?" he asked.

"No," Carson said, shaking his head insistently. "No, please... please just hold me."

Kurt bit his lip, looking into Carson's eyes. They looked so sad, but also slightly hopeful, as though he was scared of what Kurt's reply would be. _Please stay with _me, he seemed to be saying with his eyes. _Stay with me. Don't leave me._

Kurt swallowed and nodded, not bothering to hide the tears that were streaming down his own face.

"Yeah," he answered in a choked voice, reaching up a hand to stroke Carson's hair. "Yeah, ok." He settled down, cuddling the front of his body into Carson's back and curling up with his arms wrapped around his twin's chest and his head resting against his shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from sobbing out loud, because it had been far too long since he'd held this precious man in his arms, and he never wanted to let him go again.

"I love you," he whispered, softly kissing Carson's shoulder. There was no response from his twin, and Kurt realized, as he observed Carson's deep, heavy breathing, that he was fast asleep. Kurt cuddled closer, feeling an odd combination of happiness and melancholy as he closed his eyes and let himself follow Carson into slumber.

_I love you so much, Carsey. I'm never letting you go again_, he thought as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

When Carson opened his eyes hours later, blinking to get them adjusted to the early morning light peeking through his closed bedroom blinds, he thought for sure that he'd dreamed the whole thing. Surely Kurt hadn't knocked on his apartment door the previous afternoon. He hadn't been standing there looking like a beautiful dream. Hadn't kissed Carson with no warning. Hadn't shoved him roughly up against the wall, causing Carson to have trouble breathing or thinking as all the blood in his body immediately rushed south. Hadn't thrown Carson on his own bed and had his way with him.

No. None of that had happened. Kurt was still in New York living his wonderful life without Carson in it, and Carson was going to turn around any minute and realize that the warmth at his back was _not_ Kurt. It was probably a blanket. Or Kurtsie Kitty. It wasn't Kurt. It couldn't be Kurt.

A small snuffle caught his attention, and he felt a pair of hands he hadn't even realized were touching him rub softly at his chest.

"Carsey?" a heartbreakingly familiar voice whispered into his ear, and Carson felt a wave of emotions flood him to the core. "Carsey, are you awake?"

He bit his lip, ordering himself to stop the flow of tears before they began. He couldn't quite find the strength to speak, so he nodded. He felt stiff and heavy, yet well rested, and he realized that this was the first time he'd slept through the entire night since he'd moved to Chicago. Kurt must have surely had something to do with that, he thought.

There was silence for a moment, and then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss him gently on the shoulder. "Carson, I think we should talk."

Talk. The very last thing Carson wanted to do. He wanted to just stay here in bed with Kurt forever, not talking. Not facing the reality of their situation. Not dredging up the past two years. _Can't we just stay here and cuddle and pretend that nothing ever happened? _

Well, no, he reasoned with himself. They couldn't really do that, and he was being a selfish prick for even wanting to. He sighed and slowly turned around to face Kurt, his breath taken away by the sight of those eyes. They were clouded over with worry and apprehension, and Carson didn't like seeing them like that.

"What are you doing here, Kurt?" he asked softly.

Kurt bit his lip and circled a finger gently around Carson's chest. "Santana called me yesterday morning. She said she'd been to see you and that she was worried, and I just... I had enough. I couldn't go another day without trying to see you. Whether or not you wanted to see me." He cast his eyes downward at that last sentence, and Carson felt a stab of pain in his stomach at how sad Kurt looked, especially knowing that he was the one responsible for making him look that way.

"Kurt, I... no. You're wrong, honey. I _did_ want to see you. I've never not wanted to," he said. _Kurt, please, whatever you do, please don't cry. I can't handle it when you cry. I never could._

"Then _why_?" Kurt asked sadly. "Why have you been ignoring me for so long? I don't understand what I did, and I just... why did you stop loving me?"

Carson just looked at him, feeling absolutely lower than shit. He didn't even know how to process what Kurt had just said, and he didn't want to. He knew that if he did, he would start screaming and tearing his hair out to punish himself. The despair and heartbreak would never end.

He didn't say anything for a minute. Just sighed and reached tentatively for Kurt's hand. "I never stopped loving you, Kurtsie," he said softly. "Never. I just... could we talk about this later? It's been... it's been such an overwhelming night, and I..."

Kurt looked at him carefully for a minute, as though considering his words. "Ok," he agreed finally. "I, um... how about we shower and get dressed again, hmm?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, ok. Why don't you shower first, ok? Bathroom is that way," he said, pointing Kurt in the right direction. "I just want to think for a few minutes."

Kurt nodded, hesitantly stroking Carson's cheek before softly kissing it, and Carson thought he would die just from the feel of it. "Ok," Kurt said quietly. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He slipped out of bed, and Carson felt his heart beating faster at the sight of his twin's naked body, now more toned and built than ever before. He'd definitely become even more perfect over the past two years, and Carson hadn't been sure that such a thing was even possible.

_We had sex last night_, he thought to himself as Kurt disappeared into the bathroom, unable to stop himself from smiling at the thought. _That body was on top of me, and... oh GOD, he saw MY body too, didn't he? Oh fuck. No... NO... I'm all skinny and gross now, oh god, what did he THINK?_

The ringing of a phone interrupted his thoughts and he recognized it as his text ringtone. _Ugh, it's probably Santana and I have no fucking idea what to say to her._ He located the ringing phone on the ground under the bed and slid the text open without checking it. He instantly wished he hadn't done that, because he realized, with sickening clarity, that he wasn't holding his own phone.

_Kurt has the same ringtone as me_, he thought numbly to himself as he read the text in front of him.

_**Kurt, come on. You never even answered me. We don't have to get married tomorrow or anything. Can you just come home so we can talk about this? -Blaine**_

He sat on the edge of the bed and read it over and over to himself, trying with all his strength to quell the sickening feeling deep in the pit of his stomach as he thought over what the text meant.

_Come home... they live together... he lives in the apartment... THEY LIVE TOGETHER... get married... married... get married..._

He didn't even notice Kurt step back into the room and begin to put on his clothes. He was too busy staring blindly at the stupid text. Staring at it until the words lost all meaning and blurred in front of his eyes. Or maybe those were the tears doing that. He couldn't be sure.

"Carson?" asked Kurt, his voice snapping Carson rudely back to earth. "Carson? Honey? Are you ok?"

Carson didn't say anything for a moment. He just held the phone out to Kurt and looked down at his feet as his twin took it. "We have the same text ringer. I thought it was mine," he mumbled at last. There was silence in the room, and Carson looked up to see Kurt staring, stricken, between him and the phone.

"Carson... honey, please, listen to me," he whispered in a choked up voice. "Please, listen, this isn't what it-"

Carson held up a hand to silence him, and Kurt faltered, looking at Carson with tears in his eyes. "Carson please..."

"No," Carson said, trying his best to stay calm. "No, I... no." His chest was beginning to tighten in an all too familiar fashion, and he realized with a sinking stomach that he was about to have a panic attack. The thought of it happening right now in front of Kurt only made the tightening worse, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to breathe. He couldn't let Kurt see that. He couldn't. He'd die first.

"Get out," he said, his hand brushing against his chest but not clutching it the way he really wanted. He had to get Kurt to leave. "Please. Get out."

"Carson, _no_," Kurt insisted. "No, you have to listen to me, this is..."

"Get out! GET OUT!" Carson exclaimed, his heartbeat beginning to quicken. _God, please, he has to leave..._

"Carson-"

"KURT, GET THE FUCK OUT!" he screamed, doubling over on the bed and feeling the familiar shortness of breath begin to sink in. "GO! GOOOOOO!"

"Carson! _PLEASE_," Kurt pleaded, tear streaming down his face. "_PLEASE_, you have to..."

Carson picked up a pillow in a panic and threw it with all his strength at Kurt. It hit his twin in the stomach and bounced back down to the ground limply. "GET THE HELL OUT!" he screamed hoarsely, his voice almost gone now. "GO! Go home to _Blaine_. GET OUT!"

Kurt's face as he heard his words almost killed Carson right then and there, and he didn't know what the hell he would do if Kurt didn't turn around right then and leave. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about it. Kurt turned and ran out of the bedroom, his face red and streaked with tears, and Carson felt lower than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He heard the apartment door shut as Kurt left, and then he grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Screamed until he had no more strength left in his body. He curled up in a tight ball and sobbed, his heart hammering against his chest as he took in short, shaky breaths.

_This was a mistake... I shouldn't have let him in yesterday... I should have told him to go... he lives with Blaine... he's BEEN living with Blaine... for how long... and... goddammit, Santana, why the fuck would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?_

_What did I ever do to deserve any of this?_

* * *

Kurt had no idea what to do as he ran out of Carson's apartment, his clothes wrinkled and half unbuttoned, his hair a damp mess, and his phone clutched in his hand. He glared down at it, wanting so badly to throw it against the wall.

_Goddammit, Blaine, you have been nothing but a pox on my life ever since I met you, and I fucking HATE you. I hate you so much, you have no idea. I curse the day I ever stepped foot in Dalton. You've brought me nothing but shit ever since that day._

He slumped against the wall facing Carson's apartment door, burying his face in his hands and weeping. He'd been so close to getting Carson to talk, and as usual, Blaine had to come along and spoil everything. The way Carson had reacted... he'd never seen his twin like that. Ever. Certainly he'd never screamed at Kurt with such passionate anger, or thrown things at him. It scared Kurt to death. That wasn't the Carson he knew at all. The Carson he knew would never behave that way toward him, no matter how angry he was. And Santana had been right. He was so skinny, and he looked like he barely ever slept. Something was severely bothering him, and Kurt didn't know what to do.

_Baby, what's WRONG?_ he thought through his tears. _Why are you like this? Why can't you just let me explain? Everything would be ok if you would just let me explain._

He didn't move all day. He stayed right where he was, sitting against the wall with his knees drawn up to his chest. He decided that he wasn't going anywhere until Carson talked to him, and if he had to stay out here for days, then, well... he'd do that, if he needed to. He wasn't going to give up without putting up a damn good fight. The last time he'd done that, Carson had almost died.

_Not again_, he thought fiercely, staring intently at Carson's closed apartment door. _I refuse to back down, Carson. I don't know what's wrong with you, but I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say. _

So he stayed. He stayed for hours, barely moving as he kept his eyes on that door, waiting patiently for it to open. Carson had to come out some time. A middle aged woman in a short skirt walked by him at one point on her way to her own apartment next to Carson's and looked at him curiously.

"You lose your key?" she asked with a smile, looking him up and down.

"No, I'm just waiting," Kurt replied, and she nodded, looking confused.

"Ok," she replied, letting herself into her apartment and closing the door behind her. Kurt sighed and hit his head against the wall.

_Come on, Carsey. Please just open the door? You'll feel a lot better if you just let me talk._

Afternoon turned into evening, and Kurt eventually fell asleep as the hallway grew dim, his head resting uncomfortably against the hard wall. He was startled awake as he heard a door being flung open, and he opened his eyes to see Carson standing there in his doorway, looking shocked to see him.

"You're still here," he said quietly. "I... what the hell are you still doing here?"

Kurt blinked at him, trying to wake himself up so he could speak coherently. "We need to talk, Carson. I'm not leaving until we do." He scrambled up onto his feet, dusting himself off and running his fingers through his hair.

"Kurt, I..."

"Carson, _no_. I'm not letting you go again without being allowed to plead my side," Kurt insisted fiercely. "I've almost lost you twice now because you wouldn't let me speak, and goddammit, I'm not letting it happen a third time. So you can turn me away now, but I'm just going to sit out here until you let me in. Just... please. I just want a chance to talk to you. And if you don't like what I have to say, then you can throw me out and never speak to me again, but I just want to be _heard_. Please?"

Carson looked uncomfortably down at his sneakers (_Sneakers? Where was he planning on going?_).

"Please," Kurt said again. "Just for a minute. Please."

Carson sighed and stepped back into his apartment, gesturing for Kurt to come inside. Kurt gave him a small smile as he accepted the invitation, stepping inside the apartment and standing to face his twin, who sat down in a chair and looked down at his hands, saying nothing.

"Ok," Kurt said, taking a deep breath and speaking before he could lose his resolve. "First of all, I want you to know that Blaine means absolutely _nothing_ to me. Nothing. He's psychotic, he's manipulative, and he's lower than garbage in my opinion."

"You live with him," Carson spoke up quietly. "Don't you?"

Kurt looked at him, trying to decide how much information to give him about why that was. "Carson, there's a lot of complicated reasons for that. I... I never _wanted_ to..."

"Just tell me one thing," said Carson, looking up at him with cloudy, wounded eyes. "When we first got together in New York... did you still have feelings for him?"

Kurt shook his head vigorously. "Oh god, Carson, no. No! I didn't, and... you know what? I never did. I never loved him. Ever. I've only ever been in love once in my life, Carson. Just once. There's only ever been one man for me. And no matter how much it hurt me when he broke up with me, no matter how alone and miserable I was when he wouldn't talk to me or return my messages, no matter how many times I cried myself to sleep...no matter how angry...no matter how _furious _I should feel at him for that... I can't. I can't bring myself to, because I love you. With all my soul, Carson. I love you."

Carson didn't say anything, and Kurt sighed sadly as he traced the pattern of the tiled floor with the tip of his shoe. "I just... I just wanted you to know all of this, honey. Even if you kick me out right now and never want to speak to me again, I just wanted a chance to tell you how much I love you. How much I'll always love you. Even if you don't love me back the way you used to, there never has been and won't ever be another man for me. You're it. You've always been it. I guess... I guess what I'm saying is that I forgive you. And if you'll have me, I'm still yours."

He waited, hoping desperately for Carson to say something, anything. Either yell at him to go, or tell him he loved him back. Either one. Kurt wouldn't even care. He just wanted Carson to say _something_ so that he knew once and for all how his twin felt about him. He was greeted by absolute silence, and he sighed shakily, trying not to cry. If he was going to leave, he at least wanted to do it with dignity.

"Ok," he said, trying his hardest to keep his composure. "I... well, I... I guess I'll go now, then." He hesitated before saying what he said next, not sure he could handle it if he was rejected.

"Carsey... can I at least hug you first before I go?"

There was silence for a moment, and then he felt his heart breaking in two as Carson shook his head.

"No," Carson said.

Kurt choked back a sob and nodded. "Ok." He nervously brushed a piece of dust off his pants and turned to leave, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible so that he could go back to his hotel and cry until he shattered.

"Kurt, no!" Carson called after him, standing up and stopping him in his tracks. "I meant no, because... because I don't want you to go."

Kurt turned around, hardly daring to believe his ears. "I... you don't?"

Carson shook his head. "No, Kurtsie. Of course not. I never wanted to lose you in the first place, I just..." He sighed and picked at the nail of his thumb. "Um... do you think I could have that hug now?"

Kurt wasted no time granting him his request, launching himself at him and wrapping his arms tightly around him, holding him tight. He sobbed, tears of joy spilling out of his eyes as he felt Carson hug him back, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his back just the way he used to do when they were younger. He was so overcome with emotions that he didn't know whether to laugh, cry more, or scream.

"I love you so much, Carson," he whispered through his tears. "Oh god, I do. I'm never losing you again, do you hear me?" He felt Carson's arms around him grow tighter and heard a choked sob next to his ear. "Oh, Carsey. My baby."

"Kurt, I... oh god, I'm so sorry," Carson began, then gave up. He cried quietly against Kurt's shoulder and Kurt lifted his head, looking him in his tear stained eyes.

"Carsey, it's ok. It's really ok. I love you, sweetheart." Kurt punctuated this sentiment by cupping Carson's face gently with his hand. "We're going to be ok." He pressed his lips gently against Carson's, catching them in a soft, tender kiss that quickly turned heated as Carson returned it in kind, kissing Kurt back eagerly.

"Kurtsie," he whispered, resting his forehead up against Kurt's as they parted from the kiss. "Kurtsie, I... all this time... I hurt you so much, I don't..."

"Shhh," Kurt said, pressing a finger to Carson's lips. "Shhh, let's not dwell on that now, ok?" He kissed Carson again, much rougher and more desperate this time, and he moaned into it as he felt Carson's tongue dart out to taste his bottom lip, just like when they used to kiss all that time ago.

"Carson," he mumbled against his twin's lips, suddenly filled with desire for the one thing he'd always wanted and never gotten. "Carsey..."

"What is it, baby?" asked Carson softly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Kurt. "I just..." He kissed Carson once more before traveling his lips over to his ear.

"I want you to make love to me," he whispered into it, catching Carson's earlobe between his teeth and nipping gently. "Please. I... I've always wanted, and we..."

Carson silenced him with another kiss as he reached down, and Kurt suddenly found himself being scooped up and carried, bridal style, across the apartment and into the bedroom. Carson laid him gently down onto the bed, and Kurt noted that his twin had apparently changed the sheets since that morning.

"Are you sure?" asked Carson, standing up to look down at Kurt nervously. "I don't want to screw this up." Kurt looked up at him, nodding as he sprawled himself out invitingly.

"I'm sure, Carsey. You won't screw it up, baby. I want you. You're perfect to me."

Carson still looked uncertain. Kurt sat up and reached gently for his brother's hoodie, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling him down to meet him.

"Carsey, please. I've been waiting so long for you to be my first for this. And my only." He kissed Carson tenderly, and he felt his twin shudder at the contact.

"You make a compelling argument," he said, a small smile spreading across his face.

"Shut up and start touching me."

Carson smiled wider and lowered himself down, catching Kurt's lips in one more kiss before moving them over to the spot just beneath Kurt's ear that always made his breath catch.

"Carsey... mmm..." He gasped as Carson started sucking gently at the skin there, and he could already feel the bruise forming. He _wanted_ it. He wanted to feel claimed.

"I love you," Carson murmured against his skin as his fingers started undoing Kurt's messy clothes. He unbuttoned Kurt's shirt and opened it, his lips immediately closing in on Kurt's nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

"Aaah...oh god, baby," Kurt gasped, arching into the touch as Carson moved from one nipple to the other. Electric tingles were coursing through him at every new touch as Carson explored him, slowly removing all of Kurt's clothes so that he had unhindered access to his skin. He worked his mouth down Kurt's stomach, teasingly bypassing his growing erection to plant soft, hot kisses on the inside of Kurt's thighs. Kurt was drowning in sensations as he realized that this was it. Carson was finally going to top him after so long, and it was going to be wonderful, and... and he would belong to Carson. Forever. For better or for worse. They would belong to each other.

He wanted to cry out from frustration as Carson's lips suddenly left his skin and his twin got up off the bed, looking thoughtful.

"Why did you stop?" Kurt whined, reaching his hands out in a grabbing motion for Carson to come back. "That's mean!"

"No, I know, I just..." Carson looked around, biting his lip with a look of concentration on his face. "I... um... wait here, ok?" He hurried out of the room, tossing his hoodie off as he went, and Kurt sighed in frustration. _Carsey, I love you, but you're KILLING me here._

He lay naked on the bed for five minutes, staring at the ceiling and listening with amusement as Carson opened drawers somewhere and rifled around, clearly searching for something.

"Um... Carsey?" he called out. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Kurt! I just... oh, _here_ they are." Kurt heard more noise, and then Carson came back into the room, armed with two fat, white emergency candles and a lighter.

"I, um... ok, I know how you always said that you wanted your first time to be in a field of lilacs with Sting playing in the background," said Carson, looking nervous. "And I don't have any lilacs, and um... I mean, I don't listen to Sting, so I don't have him, either, but... well... candles would kind of make this more romantic, right? I mean, I know this isn't your _first_ time, or even really _our_ first time, but it's still _sort of_ a first time for you, and I want it to be really romantic, and obviously I wasn't expecting it to happen today, so..."

"Carson," Kurt said, smiling and holding up a hand to silence him. "Honey... oh god, you're adorable. You're mine to keep, right?"

Carson smiled. "Yeah. If you want me."

"Oh, I want you."

Carson set the candles up on the bedside table, lighting them quickly before stripping off his pajama pants and rejoining Kurt on the bed. "I'm still so nervous that I'm going to fuck this up and you'll hate it," he said with a pout.

"Sweetheart, like I said... there's no way you can screw this up," replied Kurt gently, cupping Carson's face with his hand. "I want the man I love to make love to me. As long as I have that, it's perfect."

"Really?"

"_Yes_," Kurt insisted. He crashed their lips together and Carson shuddered as they parted, his hand gently trailing down Kurt's bare chest.

"You're perfect," he whispered.

"_You're_ perfect," Kurt replied. Carson gently laid him back down on the bed and trailed his lips down his body, finally reaching where Kurt wanted and needed him the most. He took the tip of Kurt's throbbing erection into his mouth and sucked gently, looking up at him through his eyelashes and causing Kurt's stomach to swoop.

"I've missed that," Carson said with a grin as he popped off of him. "You always tasted wonderful."

"Yeah, well, I... _hrrngh... _Kurt moaned as Carson took him back into his mouth, taking him in as deep as he could and letting his tongue drag on the way back up.

"This is gonna be over really soon if you keep doing that," Kurt gasped as Carson bobbed back down on his length. Carson hummed around him, and Kurt let out a loud moan.

"I'd almost forgotten how good you are with your mouth," he said as Carson trailed his tongue teasingly along the underside of his dick. "You... _fuck_."

"Mmm, yes. I do. Very soon," Carson replied cheekily, placing a kiss to Kurt's tip before settling himself between Kurt's legs, gently pulling them apart. "God, Kurt, I... I can't even... you're so gorgeous."

Kurt caught his twin's eye and bit his lip. "Please, Carsey. I want you now."

Carson moaned and nodded as he reached for the lube that was still standing on the night table from their previous encounter. He uncapped the bottle and poured some out onto his fingers, moving them around to warm it up.

"I meant to ask... um... how come you have lube?" asked Kurt, the thought suddenly occurring to him. "I mean... have you, um... I mean, it's ok if you have, but..."

Carson looked confused, and then shocked. "What? Oh god, Kurt, no. _No_. Never. This stuff is what I used to use when we... you know... on Skype..."

"_Oh_!" Kurt exclaimed, feeling foolish. "Oh god, I remember. Those were fun times," he said with a sly grin.

"They were, but I think this will be better. I hope," said Carson, kissing the top of each of Kurt's knees. He slowly circled one slick finger around Kurt's hole and Kurt settled back, closing his eyes and trying to relax as he got used to the feeling.

"Is this ok?" Carson whispered. Kurt opened his eyes and nodded, smiling at him.

"Yes, baby. Um... I think you can put it in now."

Carson nodded, biting his lip in concentration as he very gently started to push his finger inside. "Please tell me if it hurts?" he said, and Kurt nodded, gasping as his body got used to the intrusion. Carson took his time, going so slowly that Kurt didn't even notice the stretch after awhile. Carson moved his finger around for a bit, and Kurt sighed happily as he experimentally clenched around the digit.

"I think I can take a second one, Carsey," he prodded him gently, and Carson nodded, adding a second lubed finger to join the first.

"How do you... um... where's the..." he mumbled, moving his fingers around and crooking them in different positions, clearly searching for Kurt's prostate. Kurt smiled encouragingly at him.

"Um, it's kind of up in the... the... _OH GOD_," Kurt screeched, arching up off the bed as Carson's fingers finally found what he had been searching for. It was unlike anything Kurt had ever felt before, and he swore he felt his eyes cross from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him as Carson put pressure on the spot again.

"Car... Carsey... fuck... _fuck_..." Kurt panted, moving down onto Carson's fingers and chasing the pressure. "Oh god... honey, I need you in me _soon_. Put a third one in. Put it iiin."

Carson obliged, pushing three fingers into him at once, and Kurt was in heaven as his twin moved them in and out. All he could think was that soon that would be Carson's dick instead of just his fingers, and he couldn't wait anymore.

"I want you, Carson," he gasped. His dick was so achingly hard, purple with need, and all he could focus on was the pure desire originating from the depths of his very soul. "Now. I want you now. God, please, I need it..."

Carson carefully pulled his fingers out and grabbed the lube, pouring it onto his hand and slicking up his erection as he looked down at Kurt nervously. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"_Yes_, now please, just..." Kurt pleaded, grabbing Carson's waist and pulling him down for a kiss. "Please, baby, I want you inside of me."

Carson kissed him back softly before holding Kurt's legs up and carefully lining himself up. "I love you, Kurtsie," he said softly.

"I love you too," Kurt replied. "Please, sweetheart... _oh_." Carson started pushing himself inside, and Kurt gasped as he felt himself stretch around him, the slight burn relaxing into a pleasant full feeling soon enough. "Oh... oh Carson, fuck... oh god..." He whimpered in pleasure as Carson pulled out slowly, the teasing drag of his dick inside of him setting Kurt's nerves ablaze. He cried out as Carson pushed back in, wrapping his legs around his waist and pushing into his ass with his feet.

"Oh god, baby, fuck me," he panted, clutching at Carson's back as his twin started thrusting, slowly at first and then picking up a decent pace. Kurt was floating. He was dying. He couldn't focus on anything except the fact that he and Carson were joined in the most intimate of ways, and that Carson was the first and only person to ever make him feel this way. It was intoxicating, and the very idea was sending him further and further toward the ultimate peak of pleasure.

"Harder... please... hrrng... harder, oh fuck..." Kurt pleaded, holding onto Carson as his twin fucked into him faster and deeper. He knew he wasn't going to last very long, even though the only stimulation his dick was receiving came from the brush of Carson's stomach against it as he moved. He could feel a weird pressure building up inside of him as Carson thrust into him, and he moved his own hips to meet every thrust. There was something happening to him, something wonderful, and if he could just...

Carson gave one hard slam directly into his prostate, and that was it. Kurt was gone. His muscles contracted as he felt an explosion of feeling inside of him at the same time as his dick pulsed and came, shooting come all over his stomach as he screamed and dug his nails into Carson's back.

"Carson..._Carson, oh fuck... shit... FUUUUUUCK_," he screamed, not even caring if the entire building could hear him. This was the most intense pleasure he'd ever known, and he was sure he was going to pass out before he finally came down, sagging down into the mattress as Carson thrust into him twice more and then came, filling him up inside as he murmured Kurt's name.

"Kurt... Kurtsie, baby, I love you so much," he whispered, covering Kurt's lips with his own and kissing him roughly as he came down. "Love you... love you... so much..." He started to pull out, and Kurt clutched at him desperately, shaking his head.

"No... no, Carson, no, don't... stay in me... just a little longer, please..."

Kurt didn't know how long they lay there like that, clinging to each other with Carson still inside of him. All he knew was that this was possibly the most perfect moment of his life, and he never wanted to lose it.

_You're mine again, Carsey. You're mine, and I'm yours. Never gonna lose you again, baby. Never. I love you._

* * *

Perfect, Carson thought early the next morning as he woke up and found himself with an armful of Kurt sleeping away peacefully. This moment was perfect. Well... perfect if he didn't think about everything that had happened before it. The panic attack. The two years of hurt and pain he'd unintentionally put Kurt through, hoping against hope that his twin would get over him. The rock bottom point he'd found himself at right before he opened the door to find that Kurt was still there, having stayed outside in the hall all day waiting for him.

_Where would I be now if he hadn't been there_? he thought, quickly squashing the thought down so that he wouldn't have to deal with it. That wasn't important now. What was important was the fact that he had made love to Kurt last night. Had fallen asleep with him, like old times, after a quick shower and a tired kiss goodnight. The fact that he now had Kurt in his arms, facing away from him with his back cuddled into Carson's chest, just the way they'd always slept when they were younger. It was comforting and oh so nice. Carson leaned his face forward to bury his nose in Kurt's hair, which smelled an awful lot like his own because the only shampoo Kurt had used in the past twenty-four hours had been Carson's.

_Not as good as it smells when he uses his fruity shampoo_, he thought, placing a kiss to Kurt's hair. _But still wonderful. Just like he is._

He was so busy kissing Kurt's hair that he didn't even notice at first that Kurt was awake until he heard a small sniff and then a clearing of a throat.

"Um... Carson?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it my imagination, or is there a cat staring at me right now?"

"Oh my god," Carson said, peeking around Kurt's body to look. Kurtsie Kitty was perched on the edge of the bed, staring at Kurt with his head cocked to the side as if to say "_Who the hell is this?_"

"I'm sorry, little guy," he said with a yawn. "Did we scare you last night with all our noise?"

"You have a cat?" asked Kurt, slowly sitting up as Carson reached across him and scooped up Kurtsie Kitty into his hands. "Since _when_?"

"Well, um... it's a long story," said Carson, petting Kurtsie Kitty's back awkwardly. "I, um... I guess I got a little lonely while we... you know... and this little guy was orphaned and he was so tiny, and I kind of felt like I related to him, and... shit, this sounds crazy as hell, doesn't it?"

Kurt shook his head, looking amused as he watched Carson pet the cat. "Not really. It's kind of sweet. I mean, generally I'm _not_ an animal person, but since all my good clothes aren't here at the moment, Kitty and I are on good terms for now. What's his name?" he asked, reaching out a finger to pet gingerly at Kurtsie Kitty's head.

Carson flushed with embarrassment. "Um... promise you won't laugh?"

Kurt smiled. "Of course I won't. Come on, what's his name? Is it Cuddles or something?"

"No... um... well..."

"Oh come on Carson, it can't be that bad," Kurt pressed.

"His name is Kurtsie," Carson blurted out, biting his lip in embarrassment as Kurt blinked at him. "Kurtsie Kitty. I missed you, and well... he reminded me of you, with his eyes and all..."

Kurt stared at him for a minute, an amused smile growing across his face. "So, you saw a wild animal that spends most of its day licking its own ass, and you thought of me?" he said teasingly. "That's um... well..."

Carson blushed. "That's not it..."

"Carson, relax, honey," said Kurt, leaning in to kiss him. "I think it's sweet. Kind of creepy, but sweet."

Carson smiled, holding Kurtsie Kitty out for Kurt to inspect. "Wanna hold him?"

"Does he bite?" asked Kurt, taking the cat from Carson and holding him gingerly in his hands, as though worried he would break.

"No," said Carson, smiling as he watched Kurt pet the cat tenderly with one finger. "I think he likes you."

"Yeah, maybe he..._ow_!" Kurt exclaimed as Kurtsie Kitty wriggled free of his grasp. "Jesus, are those claws or knives?" He held up his finger, which was now sporting a small cut. Carson smiled apologetically.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes. You get used to it."

"Hmm, that's a habit we're gonna have to break him of," said Kurt, getting up out of bed and heading in the direction of the bathroom. "Now I have to wash the cat germs out of this cut."

Carson chuckled, looking over at Kurtsie Kitty and shaking his head.

"You need to be good to him, little guy. I love him. You can't be a mean kitty to someone Daddy loves, ok? You save that for Bennigan. Or Trollberry. Or Santana. She deserves it sometimes."

"Hey, Kurtsie?" he called, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. "I have band-aids if you..." He trailed off as he entered the bathroom and saw Kurt standing stock still in front of the bathroom cabinet, a look of confusion and shock on his face.

"I know," said Kurt in a weird voice. "They're right here in the cabinet, next to your anxiety pills and your anti-depressants." Carson's stomach dropped down to the level of his feet as Kurt turned to look at him, tears clearly welling up in his eyes. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

Carson swallowed, looking down at his feet as humiliation started to consume him. "I was going to, I just... Kurt, I..."

"Anti-depressants?" Kurt choked out, taking the full pill bottle out of the cabinet and staring at it. "You're... you're _depressed_? Carson, baby, I... how long...?"

Carson felt embarrassed tears springing to his eyes as he looked down at the floor, refusing to meet Kurt's gaze. "Since the lightning," he whispered, feeling as though he might as well be honest now with Kurt. "I haven't even taken those yet. I didn't... I didn't know that was what was wrong with me at the time. It took me so long to admit it to myself. I thought I just had an anxiety problem because... because every time it rains, I... it's _awful_, Kurt, and I feel like I'm going to die, and... I just..." He took a deep breath and looked Kurt in the eye. "I broke up with you because of that. Because I thought you would be better off if you didn't have to deal with me and all my shitty problems now that I'm such a f-freak."

Kurt put down the pills and crossed over to him in a second, wrapping his arms tightly around him as Carson sagged against him, letting the tears flow.

"Carson," he said in a soft voice, and Carson could hear that he was crying too. "Baby, I... you could have just told me. I wouldn't have abandoned you or thought you were... what you just called yourself. You're _not_, do you understand? You're perfect. You're my Carsey, and I love you."

"Kurt, you don't know how bad it gets," Carson choked out. "It's terrible, and I... I didn't want you to know... it was bad enough that Dad knew, and..."

"Dad knew about this?" asked Kurt. "And he didn't _tell me_?"

"Please don't be mad at him," begged Carson. "He wanted to tell you and I asked him not to. I just... Kurt, it's _awful_. Every time it rains I wish I were dead, and sometimes I don't even want to get out of bed because I just feel so worthless."

"Stop it, Carsey," Kurt whispered soothingly. "Baby, please don't talk like that. Please? I... I know it must be terrible for you, but... oh god, honey, I'm here now. I'm here, and I won't let you go through this alone. I promise."

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Carson sobbed into Kurt's shoulder, letting himself go as Kurt held him. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want to break up with you and hurt you, but I thought I was doing the right thing, and... and..."

"Shhhh," soothed Kurt. "It's ok, honey. It's ok."

_It's not ok, Kurtsie. It doesn't feel ok._

* * *

Kurt meant it when he said he wasn't going to let Carson suffer through this alone. He couldn't believe that his twin, his precious Carson, the man whom he loved more than life itself and the man for whom he would die if he had to, had struggled with such a huge burden all by himself for so long. Kurt's heart ached for him, absolutely _ached_. And as he stood there in the bathroom holding a sobbing, broken Carson, he made a vow to himself right then and there that he would do whatever it took to make sure that Carson was never alone in this monumental struggle ever again.

So that night, when he woke up to discover a light rain falling outside and Carson gone, he suspected that this was his moment to step up and be strong for Carson. To support him as a brother and as a lover. He got out of bed and looked around the apartment, finally locating Carson in the bathroom. Tears welled up in his eyes as he took in the sight of Carson, hunched over in the corner, sobbing with his hands over his ears as he rocked back and forth and whimpered to himself.

"Stop it... oh god, make it stop... please... please..."

Kurt was by his side in a second, settling himself on the floor and scooping Carson up in his arms. "Shhh, Carsey... Carsey, I'm here, baby. I'm here. You're ok. You're gonna be just fine, honey. Shhh..."

"I can't breathe, Kurt," Carson cried. Kurt felt his heart breaking as he held him close and rocked him, rubbing circles into his back and giving him a kiss on the forehead to try to calm him down.

"There is a castle on a cloud... I like to go there in my sleep," he sang softly, holding Carson through the worst of it until the panic attack had died down and Carson went limp in his arms, sagging against him and sniffling.

"All better?" he asked softly.

Carson nodded. "I'm so embarrassed. You weren't ever supposed to see me like this."

"Shhhh," Kurt said, hugging him close. "Carsey, I'm in this now. For better or worse, I'm here. Remember what I told you at the hospital? True love is enjoying each other at our best and supporting each other through our worst? I _love_ you, Carson."

"I love you too," Carson said through sniffles.

_Never again_, Kurt thought as he sat there on the cold bathroom floor, holding his precious twin close to him. _Never again am I letting you go. You need me._

_And I'm going to be here for you._


	36. Chapter 36

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys. In light of recent events, I personally feel kind of funny updating right now. This is a difficult time for the entire fandom, no matter where you stand in it. We hope that this update at least gives you a momentary distraction from your pain, if it does nothing else. As usual, we love you all (we really, really do) and we apologize in advance for the angst in this chapter (although, be assured, it's not a lot... not nearly as much as in previous chapters. 85% fluff. ^_^ ) **

**Enjoy. (And RIP Cory...you'll be missed, honey)**

"Meow?"

Carson opened his eyes, squinting in the dim light of his bedroom as he felt something small and furry pressed against his bare chest. He glanced down and saw Kurtsie Kitty looking up at him curiously, his paws crossed in front of each other as he perched delicately on Carson's chest.

"Meow."

"Morning, little guy," he whispered, scratching behind one of Kurtsie Kitty's ears with his free hand, the other hand firmly wrapped around the peacefully sleeping Kurt cuddled up beside him with their legs tangled together. The peacefully sleeping, very warm, very _naked_ Kurt.

Carson smiled to himself as the memories of the previous night came flooding back into his brain. Going grocery shopping with Kurt as his twin filled the basket with all the things he knew Carson liked ("I'm going to get you eating again, Carsey, now do you want Lucky Charms or Golden Grahams?"). Splitting a package of M&Ms on the way home, with Kurt lovingly feeding him all the blue ones. Taking forever to put the groceries away once they finally got home because they were far too busy sneaking kisses and teasing caresses. Kissing their way into the bedroom, tearing off clothes all the way and tackling each other onto the bed. Hands desperately exploring skin. Kurt on top of him, riding him as he leaned down and kissed him passionately. _Does he have any idea how beautiful he looks like that? _The way Kurt's face looked as he came, his blue eyes wide open, his cheeks glowing, and his mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape as he spilled his seed across Carson's stomach and chest. Kurt looking at him with so much love in his eyes when Carson ran his finger through the mess and tasted it. Kurt falling asleep in his arms with a contented sigh.

"Mmmph," mumbled Kurt softly, beginning to stir in Carson's arms, his warm breath exhaling pleasantly on his chest. "Something's tickling my face."

"That would be Kurtsie Kitty's whiskers, love," said Carson, leaning his face down to kiss Kurt's forehead as Kurtsie Kitty gave Kurt the cat version of a side-eye.

"Make him stooooop," Kurt groaned, batting lazily at his face with one hand.

"Somebody's grumpy this morning."

"Not grumpy, just don't like things touching my face this early in the morning," Kurt mumbled, burrowing in closer to Carson. "Mmm, you're warm."

"Nothing touching your face? Nothing at all?" asked Carson teasingly. "Not even these?" He tilted Kurt's head up with one hand, leaning his face down to meet it so he could catch Kurt's lips in a soft, tender kiss.

"Mmm, well, for _that_ I could make an exception," Kurt said with a smile, kissing him back fervently. Carson felt a soft tongue darting out to sneak a taste of his bottom lip, which sent a pleasant shiver throughout his entire body. It was a weird feeling still, having Kurt back with him, even after several days. On one hand, he was so used to being alone, but on the other hand, it almost felt like they'd never lost any time. Somehow, Kurt didn't completely hate him for what he'd put him through. And for that, Carson was truly very grateful.

"So, on a scale from one to ten, how badly did I wear you out last night?" asked Kurt after he had parted from the kiss.

"Eleven and a half, but it was so worth it," replied Carson with a smile. "By the way, I definitely think you on top is my new favorite position."

"Oh?" said Kurt with a raise of an eyebrow. "Don't be so quick to decide. There's many positions we haven't even tried yet, honey."

"Is that a proposition?" asked Carson hopefully.

"Nope. Not right now. You have class, and you need breakfast," said Kurt, kissing Carson's chest softly.

"I could skip class again," Carson protested, nuzzling his face behind Kurt's ear and kissing the sensitive skin there. "I've been gone for days. Nobody will miss me."

"Mmm... nope."

"I don't need to eat."

"Oh yes you do!" Kurt protested firmly, sitting up in bed and looking down at Carson with a stern look on his face. "You're practically nothing but skin and bones. You're going to eat."

"Meow?" chimed in Kurtsie Kitty, his ears perking up at the sound of the word "eat."

"See? Even the little fur beast agrees with me," Kurt said triumphantly.

"Traitor," Carson muttered, sticking his tongue out at Kurtsie Kitty and making a face. "You just don't want me to get laid."

"Meow," replied Kurtsie Kitty, stretching his body out and yawning.

"Come on, Carsey. You have to eat, so tell me. What would you like?" Kurt asked, slipping out of bed and putting his naked body on full display for Carson to appreciate. Carson still wasn't used to that gorgeous sight greeting him every morning, either.

"I definitely see something I'd like, but you're being mean and won't let me have it," Carson pouted, his eyes roaming over every inch of Kurt, who preened at the attention. Carson doubted that he even knew he was doing it, which made it all the more adorable.

"Aw, honey. You can have this when you get home," Kurt promised, smiling as he grabbed one of Carson's larger hoodies from its spot hanging off the back of a chair. That was another thing Carson loved seeing. The suitcase Kurt had retrieved from his barely used hotel room the day after he and Carson had reconciled only contained so many articles of clothing, and as a result Kurt had been making significant use of Carson's clothing to wear around the house. Usually just a hoodie and nothing else, as he was doing now. Carson definitely appreciated the vision.

"Promise?" asked Carson.

"Cross my heart," replied Kurt with a smile. "Now, seriously, what do you want for breakfast?"

"Mmmm... pancakes?" asked Carson. "It's literally been years since I've tasted your pancakes, and no, that wasn't a sexual innuendo."

Kurt snorted. "Oh god, I've missed you so much."

Carson smiled, feeling the blush begin to creep over his face. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kurt replied, crossing over to the bed and leaning down to cup Carson's face in both hands, kissing him softly on the lips. "Now I'm going to go start some pancakes. You get yourself together. And feed that cat before he murders us."

"Yes, Mom," Carson answered with an affectionate eye roll. He watched Kurt exit the room, moving his hips just so in that special sexy walk that Carson had no idea how he did it so perfectly. _Gorgeous_, he thought as he got out of bed and shuffled, naked, out of the room. He made his way into the kitchen first, filling Kurtsie Kitty's dishes with food and fresh water and sneaking a kiss to the back of Kurt's neck that made his twin squeal.

"Better go shower and put on clothes," said Kurt. "Otherwise, I may not be able to stop myself from jumping your bones right here in the kitchen."

"Oh god, don't tease me," Carson groaned, kissing Kurt's skin one more time before heading for the bathroom, a happy smile on his face. That was yet another weird thing for him. Smiling. He'd grown so accustomed to not smiling... to never really having a reason to smile... that it felt almost completely foreign to him now whenever he felt a flash of actual happiness.

His smile disappeared quickly as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. For two years, he'd never actually looked at himself. He'd seen himself, of course, but he hadn't really _looked_. Now he was beginning to really see what he looked like. What two years of constant depression and anxiety had done to him, and the toll they had taken on his face and his body. He took in his pale complexion, offset by slowly fading dark circles under his eyes. His slightly sunken cheeks. His body that didn't look a thing like Kurt's anymore.

_I look gross_, he thought, frowning as he looked at himself critically. _I don't understand what he sees in me when he could... ok... ok, Carson, you need to stop. Stop thinking that way. Look where it got you the last time you did._

_But still, he's so out of my league._

He showered and dressed quickly, and by the time he made his way back out to the kitchen, he could smell the wonderful aroma of pancakes in the air. Kurt stood at the stove, humming a song under his breath as he slid a pancake onto an already large pile on a plate. Carson crossed over to him and wrapped his arms around him from behind, burying his face in his twin's neck.

"I'm not sure what smells more awesome, you or the pancakes," said Carson.

"The pancakes, I'm sure. I still smell like sweat and sex," said Kurt, leaning back into the hug.

"Yeah, like I said, I don't know what smells better."

Kurt laughed and took the plate of pancakes in his hands, turning around and carrying them over to the table, on which already sat two glasses of juice, a bottle of syrup, two plates, and Carson's anti-depressants. He set the plate down in the middle of the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing toward it grandly and looking at Carson. "Come sit, my prince."

"You're corny," Carson said with a smile as he slid into the offered seat.

"I'm in love," said Kurt. "I'm supposed to be corny. And also supposed to be able to not wonder too deeply why there's baby bottles in the cupboard."

Carson snorted. "Well, see, Kurt, those were for a baby. I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier. I'm a parent now."

Kurt looked at him, his mouth twitching at the corners as though he didn't quite know what to say. "…...What?"

"Yep," Carson replied. "It's a boy. He's a little over a year old now, and he doesn't need those bottles anymore."

"_What?"_

"Yeah, now he's old enough for me to just leave him alone all day while I go to school," Carson continued, enjoying himself. "He can't reach the stove, so I don't worry too much about him burning the place down."

"You're talking about the cat, aren't you?" Kurt said with a roll of his eyes.

"Yes, you dork! God, can you imagine me with a kid? I can barely take care of myself," said Carson, snorting. Kurt swatted him on the shoulder as he went back into the kitchen and came back with two forks, handing one to Carson and using the other to spear a pancake, which he set onto his plate.

"You're such a goon. So, will you have a very long day today? I know you have lots to make up for, from skipping classes and all."

"Um... I guess not? I only have two classes today, so I'll be home relatively early," Carson said as he worked open the bottle of pills, avoiding the piercing gaze that he could feel Kurt fixing him with. This was only his third day of taking the anti-depressants, and Kurt watched him do it every single time, with a look of worry mixed with relief on his face. It was usually a slightly uncomfortable moment for the both of them, Carson knew.

"Ok," said Kurt, and Carson could sense the relief in his voice as he watched him swallow down the pill. "Ok, good. Then I guess I'll hang out here with devil kitty until you get back." Carson smiled. Ever since Kurt had learned Kurtsie Kitty's name, he seemed unable to actually refer to him by it. It was cute.

"Kurtsie Kitty, Kurt," he said just to be a troll as he poured syrup over his pancakes. "His name is Kurtsie Kitty."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just can't call him that," said Kurt with a shake of his head. "I still can't believe you named a cat after me."

"I missed you," Carson said through a mouthful of pancake. "And he _does_ have your eyes."

"He most certainly does not."

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too. Don't you, Kurtsie Kitty?" said Carson, looking around the kitchen for the cat, who was usually never very far from where there was food. As if on cue, he felt claws climbing up his leg and then Kurtsie Kitty was on his lap, peering curiously over the edge of the table at the pancake stack.

"Don't even think about it, Fuzzy," said Kurt. "This is people food."

Kurtsie Kitty cocked his head to the side, as though considering Kurt's words. He was still for a second, and then before Carson could stop him, he was climbing up on the table and sinking his teeth into the top pancake in the stack. He dragged it off and jumped down from the table with it, and the sight of such a little cat struggling with a pancake that was bigger than he was caused Carson to almost choke on his food.

"Oh my _god_," he said after swallowing down a sip of juice. "That's my boy!"

Kurt just looked between him and the cat, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What the hell just happened?"

"I think you just got told," said Carson. "Kurtsie Kitty is a tough kind of cat."

"He's a jerk," muttered Kurt.

"He's my baby," protested Carson, pouring more syrup on his pancakes and watching as Kurtsie Kitty finally settled into the corner of the kitchen with his prize, tearing small pieces off of it with his teeth and chewing delicately.

"I thought I was your baby."

"Ok, he's my second baby," Carson corrected himself. "You're my first, and will always be."

Kurt grinned.

* * *

Kurt tried not to worry too much after Carson headed out the door for his classes. After all, he reasoned, it was going to be a short day. Carson had said so himself. And the weather called for clear, sunny skies all day. Not a drop of rain to be expected. Kurt felt better that at least there wasn't a risk of his twin experiencing a panic attack at school without him there to help him through it. Now that he had witnessed one first hand, there was no way in hell that he ever wanted Carson to go through that alone again, even if he did carry his anti-anxiety medication with him at all times. Just remembering the way Carson had been crying and shaking in the corner of the bathroom, and knowing that he'd done the same thing many times over the years completely alone, with no one to comfort him... Kurt didn't even want to think about it.

_He's never going through that by himself again. Never. I won't allow him to._

He took care of the dishes after Carson left, giving side-eye to Kurtsie Kitty over in the corner, who was still only about halfway through his stolen pancake. He shook his head as he ran a plate under the sink, wondering for the millionth time what in the hell had possessed Carson to name the cat after him. _Did he really miss me that much? He put himself through all that pain and separation because he thought he wasn't good enough? Oh, honey. You're more than good enough. You're perfect. I just wish you'd have let me take care of you all this time._

_But I guess if Pancake Thief helped get you through it, he can't be all bad._

Kurt smiled and approached Kurtsie Kitty, squatting down on his heels and gingerly offering the cat a finger to inspect. Maybe they could learn to become friends. Carson would like that.

"Hi, um... kitty," he said gently, feeling awkward as hell talking to a cat. "Um... how are you?"

Kurtsie Kitty ignored him, continuing to chew on his pancake with great concentration. Kurt had no idea where he was putting it all. He was such a tiny thing, and had already eaten all the food Carson had put in his dish that morning. _Must be nice to have that kind of metabolism_.

"So... I know you probably don't like me very much," Kurt continued. "Because, I mean, you were having a nice time, just you and your human, and then another human comes along and starts hogging all your human's time, but... well... maybe we could learn to get along for Carson's sake? Like... I can promise not to hold it against you for cutting my finger when we first met, and maybe you can promise to stay out of my suitcase, and not to watch creepily while Carson and I have sex? And maybe we can co-exist peacefully. I don't know. Something to think about."

Kurtsie Kitty stopped chewing and looked at Kurt, his blue eyes shining and his head cocked to the side, as if to say "Why are you still talking?"

"Truce?" said Kurt, moving his finger closer to the cat. Kurtsie Kitty looked at it for a second before taking one final chew off of his pancake and sashaying out of the kitchen. Kurt sighed, looking down at the mess of half eaten pancake on the floor.

_Oh well. Fine. Let him be a bitch cat. He's the one that has to deal with me, since I'm not going anywhere._

He cleaned up Kurtsie Kitty's mess and proceeded with his day, taking a shower and changing into a pair of Carson's jeans and a hoodie, since he wasn't planning to be out of the apartment that day. Otherwise, he wouldn't even consider dressing like Carson. Not that his twin's style was bad, it just wasn't Kurt Hummel. He wished he'd packed more clothes with him, but he had hardly been thinking about fashion at the time, what with his worry over Carson and his blind anger toward Blaine.

He wondered how things were going over at the loft. If Santana had confronted Blaine with what she had found out, or if Blaine had ever figured out that she had stolen his money. He felt an uneasy feeling settle deep into his stomach as he realized that he had no idea how Blaine would react to that, if he was psychotic enough to leave someone he didn't like to die a horrible death. What would he do to Santana to keep her quiet, if he felt threatened?

_Stop that, Kurt. He wouldn't be stupid enough to do something to her with Rachel around, and besides, have you MET Santana? Nobody messes with Santana unless they happen to be in the mood to experience a lot of pain and suffering. She'll be fine._

What worried him more was the realization that he would eventually have to go back to the loft, even just to get his stuff, and the very thought of facing Blaine made him physically ill. He didn't think he had it in him to set eyes on Blaine without punching him. Hard. In the dick.

But that day was not today, so he tried to keep his mind off of it. He went around the apartment, neatening things up and making the bed up with fresh sheets, noting that he and Carson would probably need to visit the laundromat again soon, with the way they were going through sheets. He took his laptop into the living room when he was done, settling himself on the couch to wait for Carson to come back. He had some research to do, he decided, if he was really going to be there for Carson and help him through his problems. He certainly didn't want to accidentally screw things up even further.

"I want to do everything right," he said out loud to Kurtsie Kitty, who looked at him warily before jumping up on a chair, knocking aside the pillows that Kurt had just arranged neatly.

"I just fixed those pillows, kitty," he said. Kurtsie Kitty looked him in the eye and reached out a paw, knocking one of the pillows to the floor.

"Jerk cat," muttered Kurt, ignoring him and returning his focus to his laptop. By the time he heard the door opening later that afternoon, he'd learned quite a bit about anxiety and depression. More than he ever thought he'd want to know, really, and a lot of what he read made him just want to wrap Carson up in his arms and never let him go.

"I'm home," Carson announced as he let himself in and shut the door behind him.

"Hey, baby," Kurt said brightly, wiping away a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye as he shut his laptop and stood up and hurried to greet him. "How did your day go?"

"It felt long," Carson said, sounding tired as he reached down to pet Kurtsie Kitty, who had jumped up as soon as he heard the door open and was attempting to climb up Carson's leg. "Hey, little guy," he said softly, scratching behind one of the cat's ears before he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. "Summer classes are exhausting, but I need them if I'm going to finish four years of college in three."

"Aaaw, my poor baby," cooed Kurt, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders. "Such a serious student. I'm proud of you."

"Really?" asked Carson, leaning his head back to look at Kurt.

"Really," replied Kurt, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Carson's forehead. "Now," he said, walking around and placing one leg on either side of Carson's lap, straddling him with his hands around his neck as Carson's hands automatically went around his waist to keep him steady. "I'm going to make you eat again, so you choose something. We can do takeout."

"I'm not really hungry," Carson protested.

"Well, there should be food, just in case. How about pizza?" asked Kurt.

"Extra pepperoni?" asked Carson hopefully.

"As much pepperoni as you can stand," said Kurt with a grin, reaching into his pocket for his phone and quickly looking up the number of the closest pizza place.

"Can I take your order?" a bored sounding guy on the other end asked after the third ring.

"Yeah, I'd like a large pepperoni pizza, please," said Kurt into the phone. "Extra pepperoni, if that's... if that's okaaaaay," he continued, his voice raising in pitch as Carson's lips planted themselves on his neck and began to suck. He was barely able to finish ordering in a normal voice as Carson went to town on his skin, sucking and licking and making every nerve in Kurt's body start to tingle.

"That was mean," he admonished him when he hung up, shoving his phone back in his pocket and crashing their lips together in a rough kiss.

"Mmmph... sorry, baby," replied Carson, his voice muffled against Kurt's lips as his hands rubbed up and down his back. "Couldn't help it. You looked delicious."

"I'm not food," said Kurt.

"You're better than food," said Carson. "And I like your pepperoni better."

Kurt snorted. "You're gross." He kissed Carson again, deepening the kiss further and moaning into it as he felt Carson's hands settle on the swell of his ass and squeeze.

"I know," said Carson. "But for some reason, you still love me."

"Sure do," replied Kurt, kissing him passionately and burying his fingers in his hair. He started rotating his hips in Carson's lap, grinding against him and feeling himself begin to stiffen in his borrowed jeans. And from the hardness he could feel starting to swell underneath him, Carson wasn't exactly soft, either.

"Think we'll come before the pizza?" he asked, moving his lips over to Carson's ear and catching the lobe between his teeth. He felt Carson shiver beneath him and his grip on Kurt's ass tighten.

"Honestly, if you keep doing that with your hips, I know _I'll_ definitely come before the pizza," he replied, kissing at Kurt's collarbone right above where his skin met his T-shirt. He thrust his hips up to meet Kurt's, and Kurt cried out, grinding down on him and rotating his hips in a circular motion. He vaguely caught a glimpse of Kurtsie Kitty out of the corner of his eye, staring at them curiously.

_Whatever, let him look_, he thought, catching Carson's lips with his own and pressing his tongue against them. Carson granted him access immediately, and Kurt moaned as their tongues slid together, the feeling so intoxicating that it made him shudder. He wrapped his arms around Carson's neck and held on as he started desperately rutting against him, each of them meeting the other's rhythm in perfect harmony, and it wasn't long at all before Kurt felt the familiar heat coiling deep in his belly.

"Mmm... Kurtsie," Carson murmured against his lips, and that did it for Kurt. He buried his face in Carson's neck and came in his pants, grinding on Carson all the way through it, and he felt his twin stiffen beneath him and follow him, a soft "Kurtsie" whispered into the air as Carson came.

They sat there for a minute, breathing hard and looking at each other. Carson's cheeks were pink and his eyes were wide and blown, and Kurt was sure his probably looked the same way. _He's so beautiful like this, when he comes. Makes me want to make him come over and over again just to see him look this way, always._

A knock on the door snapped them out of their reverie, and they both snorted as they realized the situation they were in.

"Which one of us is answering the door?" asked Carson.

"I don't know," answered Kurt honestly, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

"Me either," said Carson.

The knock came again, accompanied by a "Hello? Pizza!" and Kurt quickly hopped off of Carson's lap, removing his hoodie and holding it casually over the front of his pants.

"Coming!" he shouted, and Carson grinned. "Shut up," he whispered with a giggle, running to answer the door. He quickly paid the delivery guy and collected the pizza, setting it on the kitchen table and looking at Carson with a set of raised eyebrows.

"Ok, first we change and then we eat," he said. "I set aside some candles and a blanket while I was neatening up the apartment earlier. We can have a romantic little picnic with our pizza."

"Sounds good to me," said Carson. "As long as dessert involves more of this," he added, wrapping his hands around Kurt's waist and kissing him softly.

"Promise," said Kurt, smiling against his lips and kissing him back.

* * *

Carson didn't even know what triggered it, at first. All he knew was that he'd woken up in a cold sweat, tangled up naked in Kurt's arms, and that his heart was beating five hundred miles a minute as he struggled to breathe. He glanced out the window, confused because he didn't see any rain, and then he remembered. He had been dreaming about that night. The night of the lightning strike. He bit his lip to keep from crying and waking up Kurt, trying to calm himself down. He didn't want Kurt seeing another panic attack so soon, not after they'd had such a perfect evening.

Too late. "Carson?" he heard Kurt whisper, and Carson tried to answer him, but he just couldn't concentrate enough to form words. "Carson? Oh god, baby, are you ok?" Kurt asked worriedly, turning on the bedside lamp and sitting up in bed to look at him. Carson shook his head miserably, embarrassed to be seen like this again by the one person he didn't want to see it.

"Oh, honey," Kurt said softly, wrapping Carson up in his arms and holding him tight as Carson held on for dear life. "Your heart is beating so fast..."

"Kurt, I'm scared," he said in a broken voice. "I'm so scared."

"Shhhh, baby. I know. I know it's scary," Kurt soothed, rubbing the skin of Carson's back gently in soft circles. "You just take deep breaths, sweetheart, ok? Deep breaths. I'm right here, and I've got you. Nothing can hurt you, ok? You're safe."

Carson took a shaky breath. "I know."

"Good," said Kurt. "I know it's scary, but it will pass. Just hold onto me. Hold on as tight as you need to. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Carson nodded, resting his head against Kurt's chest and holding onto him tightly, feeling as though he had to or else he might drown in his own fear. He felt soft fingers stroking through his hair, and he let out a shaky sigh as he heard Kurt humming under his breath, a song that Carson didn't quite recognize. That didn't matter. Just the sound of Kurt's voice, the comforting, familiar presence so close to him, was already starting to calm him down.

"Kurt, I... I need my pills..." he said. Kurt nodded, easing up out of bed and holding his hands out to Carson.

"Take my hands, honey," he said calmly, and Carson obeyed, letting Kurt lead him gently into the bathroom. He watched his twin open the bathroom cupboard and take out the bottle of anti-anxiety pills, shaking one out and pressing it into Carson's palm.

"Here, sweetie. Take it," he said. Carson popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed, accepting the small paper cup of water Kurt handed to him afterwards. He took several deep breaths and felt relief wash over him as his heartbeat started to slow.

"Starting to feel better, Carsey?" Kurt asked, his eyes very clearly clouded over with worry despite his calm tone, now that Carson could see them in the light. Carson attempted a smile and nodded.

"Much," he replied, letting Kurt wrap him up in a hug. "I... I'm really glad you're here, Kurt. Even if I fucking _hate_ having you see me like this, I just... I'm grateful that I don't have to go through this by myself anymore. You have no idea... no idea how comforting it is just to have someone hold me and care..." He felt awkward, pouring out his feelings like this, but he really wanted Kurt to know. And he knew that if he didn't say it now, he might never.

"Oh, Carsey," Kurt said, rubbing his back as he held him. "My sweet boy... I know, honey. It can't have been easy all this time, dealing with this alone. I'm glad I can be here for you now. I won't ever leave you alone again. Understand?"

Carson nodded, kissing Kurt's shoulder before resting his head on it. "I love you so much."

"And I love you too, Carsey. Always and forever, just the way you are. Don't ever think that I don't. Ok?"

"Ok," Carson whispered, feeling the rhythm of their heartbeats pressed up against each other begin to match. _Our hearts beating in unison, just like they were always meant to,_ he thought with a smile.

_I love you, Kurtsie. And I'm sorry for everything. You're my angel._

* * *

"Carson?" Kurt asked the next morning as he stood beside Carson at the bathroom sink, the two of them brushing their teeth.

"Yeah?" replied Carson, catching Kurt's eye in the mirror and smiling around his toothbrush.

"Do you, um... do you want me to come with you today? To your therapy appointment?" asked Kurt cautiously, not sure how Carson would react to the suggestion. He was completely prepared for his twin to not like it at all, but Kurt was seriously wondering if he shouldn't at least try to play as active a role as possible in Carson's recovery. He didn't feel like he was doing enough. Sure, he'd thought to himself last night as he held Carson when they went back to bed, he could comfort him all he wanted in the middle of a panic attack, but was that enough? If he _could_ do more to help him, he definitely wanted to. And maybe accompanying him to therapy, getting a good handle on how Carson was supposed to be proceeding in trying to heal... maybe he should do that. If Carson would let him.

As he suspected, Carson's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and he vigorously shook his head. "No," he said, his mouth still full of toothpaste. "No, you _really_ don't have to do that. Really. I'll be perfectly fine. Seriously."

Kurt nodded. "I thought you might say that. I just... I'm just really committed to helping you, honey. I only thought that going with you might help me understand your situation better, so that I can do everything in my power to help you. You know?"

Carson leaned over the sink and spit, placing his toothbrush back in his mouth as he looked at Kurt in the mirror. "I understand, Kurtsie, and I love you for it. I do, but I just don't think I'm ready for you to do that. Not... not yet, anyway. Maybe in time, but not now. It's hard enough for me letting you see me during my absolute worst moments. I think... I think the therapy should just stay my thing. For now."

Kurt hesitated, wanting to argue, but deciding against it. At least Carson was being open and honest with him. He could respect his wishes. _And in time, he'll come around. Baby steps._

"Ok," he said with a smile. "But how about a compromise? I won't follow you into the building, but I'll be close by checking out the sights? I just can't take another day alone in the apartment. I'm pretty sure your cat hates me."

Carson snorted, putting his toothbrush back in its holder and standing behind Kurt, rubbing his shoulders. "He does not."

"He does, Carson. He hates me," Kurt insisted.

"He's a cat."

"He's an _evil_ cat."

Carson shook his head with a smile and wrapped his arms around Kurt's chest. "You're paranoid. But yeah, if you want to come with me, that'd be nice. There's a strip mall across the street from the office building, actually. You can shop, and then when I'm done we can go eat lunch somewhere."

"Sounds good," said Kurt, turning around and kissing Carson on the lips. "Anything that gets food in you is just fine in my book."

They got ready for the day, showering together to save time (and apparently Carson was unable to resist sinking to his knees to give Kurt an incredible blowjob, which Kurt was powerless to resist even if he wanted to, which he most certainly didn't). By the time they exited the apartment and headed for the elevator, Kurt had a pleasant feeling in his gut that today would be a good day. Maybe not perfect, but at least good.

"Hi, boys," said a woman walking past them on their way down the hall, and Kurt recognized her as the same one who had mistaken him for Carson the day he had been sitting out in the hallway.

"Hi!" Kurt said pleasantly, waving at her, and he saw Carson cringe next to him.

"Didn't know you had a handsome twin," she said with a wink at Carson. "Where you been hiding him?"

"Bushwick," Carson mumbled, pulling Kurt into the elevator as the doors opened and practically attacking the "Close Doors" button.

"Who's that?" asked Kurt curiously as the doors shut.

"Mrs. Moore," answered Carson with an eye roll. "She lives next door and she wants to fuck me. It's very disconcerting."

Kurt snorted. "Oh my god. That's adorable."

"It's not funny," Carson whined. "She's always coming around with muffins. I'm afraid to eat them. They might be drugged."

Kurt laughed. "Oh, come on. Besides, I don't really blame her. You're the hottest piece of ass in the entire building. Or the entire city, for that matter."

"I beg to differ, hon," Carson protested as the elevator dinged and the doors opened out to the lobby. "That would be you."

"Stop trying to butter me up," said Kurt, throwing an arm around Carson and leading him out of the building. "You don't need to. I've already been lured into your bed."

"Love you," Carson replied, reaching his hand up to squeeze Kurt's hand. "Now let's find a cab before I'm very, very late."

They hailed the nearest cab, which dropped them off on a very bustling street, on which Kurt could see the strip mall Carson had spoken about, plus some very interesting looking shops. He sighed happily and patted Carson on the shoulder, sneaking a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Good luck at therapy, honey," he said. "You're _sure_ you don't want me to come with you?"

"Positive," Carson insisted. "Go shop and have fun. I'll call you when I'm done, ok?"

"Ok," agreed Kurt. Carson kissed his forehead before hurrying across the street, and Kurt turned his attention to the plethora of shops that he planned to devote his attention to for the next hour. He browsed through a bookstore and a candle shop, and then ended up outside a flower shop, contemplating an idea for only a second before he decided to go for it and pushed open the door.

"Hi," the girl behind the counter greeted him. "Can I help you?"

"Yes you can," said Kurt, giving her a smile. "I'd like a single red rose, please. If you have any."

"We do," the girl replied, returning the smile and walking over to a display of roses, selecting one and setting it on the counter. "Would you like to include a note?"

Kurt nodded eagerly. "Yes. I would." The girl handed him a small, blank card and a pen, and Kurt set to work painstakingly composing his note.

"Is it for someone special?" the girl asked with a lilt in her voice, and Kurt blushed and smiled down at the note.

"Yeah. He and I have been through a lot together, and... I guess I just want to remind him how much I love him."

"That's so sweet," the girl sighed as Kurt finished writing and slid the note to her. She expertly tied it to the rose and rang him up, and Kurt happily took the rose and headed out the door just as his phone rang.

"Good luck!" she called after him.

"Thanks," he replied, sliding his phone open to answer the call. "Hi, baby. How'd it go?"

"Ah, well. Therapy is therapy, I guess. It could have been worse. Where are you?" asked Carson.

"Right across from you. I can see you coming out of the building right now," said Kurt, waving for emphasis, and he saw Carson wave back, looking both ways before crossing over to him and throwing an arm around him.

"Missed you," he said happily. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the rose. "Did some douche hit on you?"

Kurt laughed. "No. Actually, this is for you."

"For me?" said Carson, delicately taking the rose as Kurt handed it to him and smiling down at it. "Oh, sweetheart." He fingered the note hanging off of the flower's thorny stem, opening the card and reading it out loud. "Carsey, I just wanted to let you know that I love you with all my heart, and that this rose reminds me of you. It's very prickly, but if you handle it right, you're left with something beautiful..." Carson's voice trailed off as he clearly struggled not to cry, and Kurt smiled at him as he watched him silently read the rest. He already knew what it said.

"..._You're left with something beautiful. That's you. I'm so proud of you, and I'm so grateful to be back in your life. You'll never fully know how much I love you, but I hope you at least have some idea. Always and forever, Kurtsie."_

"I meant every word," he said when he was sure Carson had finished reading. Carson sniffed and hugged him, his arms wrapped so tightly around him that Kurt felt like they would merge into one body soon.

That would be fine with him.

"Do you know what today is?" asked Carson when they had parted from the hug. Kurt shook his head.

"Thursday?"

Carson laughed and shook his head. "No. No, it... it's our anniversary."

Kurt looked at him, confused. "We have an anniversary?" he asked. "I always kind of figured that our anniversary was the day we were conceived."

Carson smiled, bringing the rose up to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Mmm, cute, and probably accurate, but no. Today's a different anniversary. It was two years ago today that you first told me you loved me."

Kurt gasped, his hand flying up to his mouth as he thought back. He remembered that night so clearly, the way he had finally let the dam burst and gush out everything he had been repressing. All the feelings that he didn't want to hide from Carson anymore. He remembered it so well, and he couldn't believe that he'd never paid attention to the date before. But Carson was right. It was, indeed, two years to the day since they'd been able to acknowledge each other as lovers.

A flood of emotions ran through him and he almost burst out crying right there in the middle of the street. "Oh god," he said, hugging Carson again and kissing his cheek. "Oh god, you're right! I feel so stupid, I'm usually the hopeless romantic who keeps track of things like that, and here I am not even recognizing one of our most important anniversaries. I suck."

"Oh, honey, don't feel bad," Carson replied, hugging him back. "I didn't realize it myself until just a few minutes ago. Now _I_ feel like the ass because you inadvertently gave me a gift for the occasion, and I have nothing for you."

Kurt shook his head vigorously, hugging him tighter. "No, Carsey, that's not true at all. You _have_ given me a gift. I have your love back, and that's all I ever wanted. That's the greatest thing you could possibly have given me."

"There was never a time you didn't have my love," Carson replied quietly. "And I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you didn't."

"Shhh," Kurt said. "Let's not dwell on that, honey. Let's enjoy our anniversary," he added, giving Carson a shy smile. "What about doing lunch and then going back to the apartment? You know... for dessert," he whispered in Carson's ear, and his twin grinned so brightly he could have lit up the whole city if it had been night time.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, and took Kurt's hand, leading him down the street.

Lunch was relatively uneventful, but full of so much sexual tension that Kurt was ready to burst by the time they finally paid their bill and frantically hailed a cab back to the apartment building. Kurt said a silent thank you to a god he didn't believe in for privacy screens in cabs, because they enabled him to teasingly palm at the front of Carson's pants the entire ride home as he placed teasing kisses up and down his twin's neck.

"You're going to kill me, you know," Carson whispered. "I'm seriously so very close to just laying you down here in the backseat and doing stuff to you."

"Don't tease me," Kurt said, gripping Carson by the waist. "I could pull you on top of me right now. It'd be so hot. Doing something like that here in a cab where anyone could see..."

"Yes, and where anyone could also see we're related," Carson reminded him, sneaking a quick kiss to Kurt's lips. "Patience, sweetheart."

The cab couldn't arrive fast enough, and once it did, Kurt practically pulled Carson out of it, barely giving him time to pay the driver before he was dragging him into the building and into the elevator. He was planning to continue sexually tormenting Carson in the elevator, and was frustrated beyond belief to see a mother and her two kids inside. He and Carson exchanged a look, each trying not to laugh as they thought about what they were going to do once their apartment door had closed.

And Kurt certainly didn't waste any time at all. The second the door had closed behind them and they were safely in the apartment with no one to disturb them, Kurt dragged Carson into the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed before eagerly climbing on top of him and kissing him hungrily on the mouth.

"God... _mmmph..._ you have no idea how badly I've been wanting to do this ever since the restaurant," Kurt murmured against Carson's lips as his twin kissed back enthusiastically, their tongues and teeth clashing as their hands fumbled with each other's clothing.

"Oh, no? I think you running your foot up and down my leg gave me at least some indication," Carson argued, looking proud of himself as he managed to successfully unbutton Kurt's shirt and peel it off before hooking his fingers into the bottom of the undershirt beneath it and pulling up and off. "By the way, we really need to discuss this obsession you have with undershirts. I've never been one to critique your clothing choices, as you know, but I have to say, I don't approve."

Kurt laughed. "Perhaps we could arrange for no more undershirts," he teased, yanking Carson's T-shirt off and fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. "Right after I convince you to add other colors to your wardrobe palette besides blue."

"Well, you do know why I like blue so much, don't you?" Carson replied, helping Kurt with his pants before they both started in on Kurt's.

"Well, I know it's your favorite color and all, but..."

"It's my favorite color because it reminds me of your eyes," Carson finished, and Kurt stopped what he was doing, looking into Carson's eyes as he tried to process what he'd just heard.

"You... oh Carson," he said, feeling a simpering smile start to spread across his face. "Oh, honey, I just can't with you."

"Yes you can," Carson replied, whisking Kurt's pants off and turning their bodies so that Kurt was laying on his back in his underwear, with Carson draped over him and cupping his face with both hands. "I love you so much it hurts," he whispered, leaning in to kiss Kurt, who felt his body rising beneath him as he deepened the kiss, his hands planted on Carson's shoulders.

"Happy anniversary," Kurt said quietly, looking at Carson and biting his already swollen lip as he parted from the kiss, and Carson's eyes looked positively blown with love and lust. His lips caught Kurt's again before beginning to work their way down his body, no inch of skin left untouched as he thoroughly lavished Kurt with reverent kisses.

"Taste so fucking good," he murmured against Kurt's skin, and Kurt closed his eyes, savoring every electric tingle, every hot touch of Carson's mouth as it made contact with his flushed skin. He felt fingers hooking into the waistband of his underwear and gasped when they were pulled down and he felt the rush of air to his newly exposed dick, which was rapidly hardening under Carson's ministrations. There were hot kisses being pressed teasingly down his stomach and along his inner thighs as Carson deliberately avoided kissing him where Kurt knew they both really wanted it.

"Carson... Carsey," he moaned, looking down as Carson looked up at him. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" Carson asked, stroking soft circles into the skin of Kurt's thigh with his thumb. "Tell me what you want, honey."

"Your mouth... god, please, your mouth," Kurt pleaded, and his pleads turned into a moan as Carson fulfilled his wish and there was suddenly a very hot, wet heat surrounding the tip of his erection. Carson sucked at him teasingly, looking up at him through his long eyelashes, and Kurt bit his lip, returning the gaze and moaning loudly as Carson licked a stripe up the underside.

"Delicious," Carson said before sinking his mouth as far as he could down Kurt's length, and Kurt's scream of pleasure caught in his throat when he felt himself hit the back of Carson's throat.

"You never lost your touch for this," Kurt groaned, his breath coming out in short pants as Carson bobbed up and down on him.

"Nope," Carson replied. He sunk back down on him, and Kurt could feel himself rapidly approaching orgasm, the heat building and building inside of him, ready to explode any minute.

"Gonna... _fuck_... gonna come soon," he moaned, and apparently that spurred Carson on more, because his twin only increased his speed, sucking harder until Kurt screamed and came right down Carson's throat. Carson sucked him through it, and Kurt collapsed back and watched in awe as his twin popped off of him and licked his lips, having swallowed everything Kurt gave him eagerly.

"Fuck," Kurt breathed.

"Right. That comes next," Carson said with a smile, kissing him on the lips. "You wanna fuck me, or should I fuck you?"

"You fuck me," Kurt practically begged. "God, please. We don't even need lube, I think I'm still pretty good from last night, just... god, get in me, ok? Please."

Carson bit his lip, looking as though he were contemplating something. "We still need to prepare you a little, but... ok, I have an idea."

"An idea?" asked Kurt, his spent dick already twitching with interest even though he had no idea what for yet.

"Yeah... I'm gonna try something, ok? Just... if you don't like it, I'll stop, I promise. But I just want to try it. Ok?" asked Carson, looking nervous.

"Ok..." Kurt agreed, wondering what his lover had up his sleeve. Carson gently laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back against the pillows, taking one and settling it underneath Kurt's ass to elevate it.

"Keep your legs open for me, love. Ok?" said Carson, and Kurt nodded.

"Ok," he agreed. He settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes as he felt Carson's mouth back on him, trailing kisses on his thighs and along the sides of his dick, which was trying to get hard again already, albeit without much success.

"That feels nice," Kurt sighed happily, and he felt Carson grin against his skin.

"It's about to feel better. I hope," he heard from between his legs, and before he could figure out what Carson meant, he felt lips teasingly mouthing at his balls before they traveled lower, and then...

"_Oh, god_!" Kurt gasped as he felt Carson's tongue teasing at his entrance, and he suddenly realized what his twin had in mind. "Oh shit, yes, please..." Just the very thought was enough to get him semi hard again, and he had to press his fist against his mouth to keep from screaming when he felt Carson begin to lick at him eagerly, slowly working him open with his tongue.

"Cars... Carson, baby, oh my g... hrrngh..." Kurt babbled as Carson continued licking at him before sticking his tongue _inside_, and that was it. Kurt needed him now, not one minute later.

"Get in me," he ordered, pushing back on Carson's tongue and writhing. "Please, fuck, get in me now!" Carson moved back up his body and pressed a kiss to Kurt's chest, looking proud of himself.

"Ok, baby. Ok," he agreed, taking off his underwear and retrieving the lube bottle from the bedside drawer, only pouring out a little. "Just enough to ease inside, ok?" he said, and Kurt nodded.

"Want you," he moaned, and Carson smiled, carefully laying himself down beside Kurt and turning him onto his side. Kurt felt him positioning himself at his entrance, and then there was pressure as he began to push in, quickly bypassing the ring of muscle and entering him fully.

"Uuuung..." Kurt moaned, and Carson wrapped one arm around his chest, placing his other hand at Kurt's hip as he began to rock into him, slowly at first and then picking up the pace. It was nice like this, Kurt thought, being held so close while Carson made love to him. Probably the most intimate it had ever felt, which was saying a lot.

"Love you so much," Carson whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of heavy breathing and skin against skin that was filling the room already. Kurt heard it, though, right before lips began sucking on his neck, and he had a feeling this wasn't going to last much longer. He was already flushed and hard, and Carson's hand leaving his hip to wrap around his dick didn't make it any less so as his twin continued to fuck into him.

"Want you to come for me, Kurtsie," Carson moaned against his skin. "Come for me, baby." He stroked Kurt a handful of times, and Kurt screamed as he came for the second time, his vision blacking out. He felt Carson pulse inside of him and come, filling him up as he bit down on Kurt's shoulder.

There were no words exchanged after that. There was only gasping breaths and kisses and Carson eagerly cleaning Kurt up with his tongue before they lay back together in bed, holding each other tightly in their arms. The overwhelming love radiating off both of them was more than enough.

_Perfect. We are perfect. This is perfect._

* * *

Kurt woke up several hours later, stifling a yawn and feeling his arms strangely empty. He sat up in bed and found himself alone in it, wondering where Carson had gone and feeling suddenly hungry.

"Carson?" he called. "Honey?"

"I'm in the kitchen, Kurtsie!" he heard Carson call back. "Kurtsie Kitty had to eat, and so do we."

"Read my mind," Kurt called back, leaning back against the pillows and smiling to himself. He loved this feeling the best. The feeling of afterglow that lasted for hours every time he and Carson made love. It was addicting, somehow. "Do you want any help in there?"

"Nope, I've got it. Stay right where you are. I'll be back in a few minutes," replied Carson. _Ok, lover_, Kurt silently agreed, his smile growing into a grin. _Lover. I like that word._

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and his curiosity was immediately piqued when he saw Santana's photo filling the caller identification screen. "Hey," he said as he eagerly picked up the phone. "What's up? I haven't heard from you in days. Is, um... is everything ok?"

"As good as can be expected, I guess," Santana replied with a sigh. "Berry is hardly ever seen, and Blowties has pretty much been sitting around here whining and moaning that you won't talk to him. Gee, I fucking wonder why. I don't think he even knows yet that I stole his money, but I can't _wait_ until he does, because then I'm going to inform him that I know full well that he's a lying liar who lies and I will go _all_ Lima Heights. How's Carson doing? Is he ok?'

_Gee, and she doesn't know about the marriage proposal, or about the lightning_, Kurt thought, deciding to keep those things to himself for now. "He's... he's fine. Well, not _fine_, but... I mean, I understand why you were so worried. I just... thank you. I mean it, Santana, thank you. I'm sorry I gave you so much shit all these years, you know?"

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Santana dismissively. "I mean, like I've tried time and time again to tell you, I sort of think of you and Carson as part of my family by now. And I do for family."

Kurt choked back the urge to say "Aaaaw." He cleared his throat and toyed absently with the edge of the bedspread. "Thank you," he said again. "Um... do you think maybe you could _not_ confront Blaine? I mean, I... I know you're tough and you have your Lima Heights thing, but, um... see, I... I kind of worry. I mean, he's pretty much proven himself to be psychotic, and... just promise me you won't?"

There was silence on the other end for a minute, and then he swore he could hear Santana grinning. "Are you _worried_ about me? That's so fucking adorable, I can't even deal. Kurt, have you _met_ me? I will cut a bitch for free breadsticks, do you really think a hobbit who's more gel than he is human could really do anything to me?"

"Yeah, laugh it up," muttered Kurt. "Just trust me when I say I do _not_ trust Blaine. At all. I need to figure out a way to kick him out." Carson appeared in the doorway just then, carrying a tray of food, and Kurt smiled at him. "Hey, can I call you back later, Santana?"

"Sure. And tell Carson that I'm sorry. I did it for his own good," she replied.

"He knows," Kurt said. "I'll call you later, ok?"

"Ok."

He hung up the phone and looked at Carson, who smiled at him. "Santana," he explained. "She wants you to know she's sorry."

Carson set the tray down and looked down at his feet. "Yeah, I know. I know why she told you. And I'm glad now that she did, obviously, but um..." He looked nervous as he climbed back into bed beside Kurt and looked at him curiously. "Can I... can I ask you something, Kurtsie? And will you be totally honest with me?"

"Of course!" Kurt insisted. "Anything."

"Ok, well..." Carson began, heaving a sigh. "Um... I guess... I guess I want to know why Blaine was living with you in the apartment. You never told me, and I know that there wasn't anything, you know... _romantic_ or anything going on. I know that, I just... I'd like to know why he was there."

Kurt felt himself flushing, desperately wanting to shield Carson from the truth, yet at the same time knowing that he couldn't. That Carson had a right to know what was going on, and that he couldn't keep it from him. It wouldn't be right, or fair.

"I..." Kurt began, not quite knowing how to finish his statement. "Ok, the truth is... I did it for you. The only reason he was living there was for you."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow," said Carson. Kurt took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"Don't freak out or get too angry, ok? He... he came to me and said that he didn't have any place else to live when he started college last year because he'd been rejected from the dorms. And I knew...I _knew _deep down that he was lying, but he told me that if I didn't let him live there, that... that he would..."

"That he would do _what_?" Carson asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"He said he would go to the police and tell them that you attacked him the night of the lightning," Kurt blurted out in a rush, sorry to be telling Carson any of this and yet relieved at the same time to have it off his chest. "He said he had pictures of the bruises, and I... Carson, I was _scared_. I didn't know what the police would do, or if they would arrest you here and throw you in jail, and I didn't want that for you. I wanted so badly to protect you, and I didn't know what to do, so I let him live with me. He said it would only be for a few months, but that turned into almost a year, and then he wanted to give me a fucking promise ring, and I... then Santana told me to come to you," he finished, deciding that he just didn't have it in him to tell Carson about Blaine's confession. "Anyway, I just want you to know that I didn't want to live with him, but I felt like I had no choice."

Carson was silent for a minute, and Kurt gingerly reached out and rubbed at his arm. "Carson?"

"That fucking _asshole_!" Carson shouted, and squeezed Kurt's hand apologetically when Kurt flinched. "I'm sorry for yelling, baby, I just... _FUCK_! Who the fuck does that asshole think he is? I want to kick his ass again! I'll do more than fucking bruise him this time, fucking hell! I'll _murder_ him for doing that to you. He can't get away with this, Kurt. You know that, right?"

"I know," Kurt said quietly.

"He can't stay at that apartment. There's got to be a way to kick him out. I don't know how, but we'll find a way," Carson declared, wrapping Kurt up in a hug. "I promise you, he'll pay."

Kurt nodded, holding back the tears of relief he wanted to cry for finally being able to talk with Carson about these things. "While we're talking about this stuff, Carson, I also want to make sure you know that Blaine was the one who kissed me the night of the lightning. I don't know if you even remember that night, but..."

"Shhh, Kurtsie. I remember," Carson whispered. "I remember everything, and I'm so sorry that I overreacted like I did. If I had just listened to you..."

"I know, baby, I know," Kurt said, crying now. "And I'm sorry that I ever started dating him in the first place. I wish I had just told you in high school that I love you instead of railing against it so much because of what society would think of me... of us. We can't go back and change anything, though. The past is the past, and I'm just grateful now that we've gotten through it and we have each other again. That's all I ever wanted. That's all I ever want _ever_."

They sat there hugging for a very long time, Kurt just savoring the feeling of Carson's arms around him and the feeling of knowing that Carson loved him. That Carson had always loved him, and would always love him. Despite the angst, it made a warm, glowing feeling spread through his body to think that no matter what happened, they would always have one another.

"In the interest of disclosure, I feel I should also mention that Buffy put a used coffee cup in my literary submissions box," Carson said after a couple of minutes, and Kurt had no idea what to do with the rush of anger that passed through him other than to let it out in a laugh.

"Forget him," he whispered, brushing his lips against Carson's and kissing him softly. "He's not important. We are."

"Right," Carson agreed.

Their lovemaking this time was very slow, every move deliberate and savored and enjoyed to its fullest. _This is my life_, Kurt thought as Carson softly kissed him and held him and thrust gently into him. _This is my present, this is my future. This is my life._

_And I don't ever want it any other way._

* * *

"What are we going to do when the summer is over?" Carson asked later that night as they lay in bed together, cuddled as close as possible. Kurt maneuvered his head a little, looking at Carson curiously, his blue eyes large and wondering. Carson tried not to lose himself in the sight of those beautiful eyes and concentrate on the present.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have a year left at Northwestern, and you have _Vogue_ and NYADA," Carson explained, the thought troubling him. "I don't want another separation, but I don't see how..."

"That's not an issue," Kurt said firmly. "If you have a year left here, then I will just stay with you. I can defer NYADA for a year. It'll still be there when I get back."

Carson shook his head. "Kurt, no. I'm not going to let you do that. You can't put your future on hold for me."

"Carson, I'm not going to argue with you about this," Kurt insisted, his eyes going from curious to stubborn. "I've spent entirely too much time apart from you, and I'll be fucked if I'm doing it anymore. You need me. You can't be alone, and I refuse to go back to New York for a whole year with you by yourself except for that cat. Not with your anxiety and everything else. I'm staying here with you in Chicago until you graduate, and then we can go to New York until _I_ graduate, and then we can figure out what to do from there. But we are _not_ separating, so get that idea out of your pretty head right the hell now, do you understand me?"

Carson bit his lip and didn't say anything, just held Kurt tighter and kissed his lips. Kurt eagerly returned the kiss and settled against his chest, heaving a happy sigh, the subject seemingly forgotten. But it continued to eat at Carson, long after Kurt had fallen asleep and even the noisiest neighbors had gone to bed. He couldn't let Kurt delay his future, but at the same time he understood Kurt's reluctance to leave him alone. Carson himself wasn't wild about the prospect either.

_There's got to be some kind of solution_, he thought as he settled down and tried to fall asleep. _The summer is young. We have time to figure something out._

_And I promise, honey. You won't lose me this time. Never again._


	37. Chapter 37

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys! Not much to say about this chapter, really, except that we promise that this is the last appearance of Blaine (we mean it). **

**Let's read!**

"We could get in so much trouble for this," Kurt whispered, looking nervously in all directions as he followed Carson through the complicated maze of a shortcut. "The pool is closed this late at night, and are you even sure you know where you're going?"

"Would you relax?" Carson replied, training the light of his phone on the slip of paper in his hands, off of which he was reading directions. "I'm a journalist, Kurtsie. I'm very observant. Trust me, it didn't take much eavesdropping on those girls' insipid conversation at school to figure out how and when to sneak into this place. With a pool literally a block away from the apartment, we'd be stupid _not_ to sneak in for a late night swim. You worry too much."

"I can't help it," Kurt said quietly, biting his lip as they approached a large, locked gate separating them from a medium sized swimming pool on the other side. "There's so many things to worry about. Like, for example, what if we get arrested for trespassing? Or, what if one of us hits our head on the shallow end and there's no lifeguard on duty? Or what if there's, like, snakes in there or something?" He wanted to add another concern to that list, namely "What if you get a panic attack in the water and drown?" But the happy look on Carson's face as he stood there picking the gate's lock stopped him. It was like catching a glimpse of the old Carson, the Carson who let nothing and no one stand in the way of what he wanted. The last thing Kurt wanted to do was pop whatever happy bubble his twin had wrapped himself in tonight.

So, he said nothing and just watched, smiling to himself at the adorable, self-satisfied look on Carson's face when his twin finally popped the lock and pushed the gate open.

"Beauty before age," he announced, making a grand hand gesture and encouraging Kurt to enter before him. Kurt smiled and shook his head as he entered the empty, dark pool area and looked around, still nervous that a cop was going to show up out of the blue at any moment and arrest them.

"I still think this is a bad idea," he whispered. He heard Carson drop their duffel bag full of towels on the ground and come up behind him, feeling his twin's arms wrap protectively around his chest.

"Kurtsie, I promise you, we won't get caught," Carson whispered, planting his lips lightly on Kurt's neck and kissing him there, causing Kurt to let out a delighted shiver despite the oppressive heat outside. "It's almost eighty degrees out right now. Don't tell me that the water isn't calling your name. Hear it? It's saying "Kuuurtsie! Come swim in meeee! Preferably as naked as possible!"

Kurt snorted and turned around, wrapping his hands around Carson's waist and kissing him on the lips. He felt his heart swelling with love as he looked into Carson's eyes and saw how bright they looked. How full of fun and amusement. It was so rare to see Carson like this anymore, fully enjoying himself without the ever present mask of caution and anxiety on his face. He wondered if this was just a fleeting moment in time, or if Carson, after almost a month of being back with Kurt and taking baby steps toward healing, was finally beginning to make some significant progress.

He decided he didn't want to focus on that right now. He wanted to enjoy the night and be caught up in Carson's excitement. "You're such a dork," he said, kissing his twin again. "But you're my dork, and I love you."

"So is that a yes to the naked swimming, or...?" Carson asked, the moonlight illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

"And risk a public indecency charge on top of the trespassing when we inevitably get caught? No thank you. Shirtless is as close as you'll be getting, mister," Kurt teasingly admonished him, stepping back and slowly stripping off his T-shirt, dragging it out as long as possible and stuffing his clothes inside their duffel bag until he was finally clad only in his boxer shorts that were going to be doubling as swimwear.

"You're sweaty," Carson said quietly, his eyes raking up and down Kurt's body appreciatively.

"It's hot," Kurt pointed out, walking back over to him and yanking his shirt off without warning. "And you're not exactly dry yourself." He took in the slightly glistening chest in front of him and unconsciously licked his lips as he reached out a hand to palm at it. "Shall we go cool off, then?"

"Let's jump in together," Carson suggested with a raise of one eyebrow as he reached for Kurt's hand. "Get the initial cold shock over with so we can have some fun."

"Hmmm, or I could push you in," Kurt mused.

"Do it and I'll have my revenge," Carson replied coolly.

"Oh yeah? What kind of revenge?" asked Kurt, interested.

"I, um... I don't know, but I'll think of something," Carson answered. Kurt grinned and gave him no warning before scooping him up in his arms.

"Kurtsie!" Carson squeaked, hanging onto Kurt's neck for security.

"Hold your breath," Kurt ordered. Carson obeyed, taking a large breath and holding it before Kurt tossed him right into the pool with a large splash.

"So," he said, crossing his arms proudly over his chest as Carson emerged from underwater, rubbing the water out of his eyes and glaring at Kurt. "Where's your revenge?"

"You're so mean," Carson pouted.

"So punish me," Kurt said with a wink.

"Don't mind if I do," Carson replied, swimming over to the edge of the pool where Kurt stood and splashing a handful of water up at him. Kurt squealed when the cold drops hit him, jumping out of the way.

"That the best you can do?" he taunted Carson, delicately flicking a drop of water off his stomach.

"No," said Carson with a smile. "This is." Before Kurt knew what was happening, Carson was hoisting himself up out of the water and standing beside him. He felt forceful hands on his back, and then he was falling straight into the water, the cold hitting him all over his body at once as he submerged. A second splash beside him let him know that Carson had jumped back in with him, and he finally bobbed his head above the water, brushing it out of his face and waiting for Carson's head to emerge.

"Jerk," he said, splashing water at Carson as his twin grinned at him.

"I'm _your _jerk," Carson replied, making a kissy face at him. Kurt splashed him again in reply.

"Two can play that game," Carson crowed, splashing Kurt with both hands as Kurt splashed back. It was an all out splash war soon enough, and Kurt could barely see because of all the water in his face as he laughed and continued moving as much water as he could in Carson's direction. He must have been moving himself more than he realized, because soon he felt his back hit the edge of the pool.

"Got you cornered," Carson announced, swimming up to him and crowding in on him. He pressed their bodies together and leaned in, placing a tender kiss on Kurt's lips as Kurt's arms automatically went around his neck and he kissed back eagerly.

"I guess you do," Kurt replied, leaning his head back as Carson started working on his neck, pressing delicate kisses up and down it that were so feather light that Kurt just had to sigh in happiness for a second. The pool water suddenly didn't seem nearly as cold as it had a moment ago.

"Like that?" asked Carson, licking a circle into Kurt's skin with his tongue.

"Mmm," Kurt murmured in response. "Very much. I like your tongue better in my mouth, though."

"That can be arranged," Carson replied, pressing one last kiss just above Kurt's collarbone before crashing their lips back together. Their teeth colliding caused Kurt to let out a small giggle, which was quickly stifled when he felt Carson's tongue sliding into his mouth. There was really nothing in the entire world to compare to that feeling, he decided as their tongues danced together for a while, the velvety softness of Carson's sliding against his own sending tingles throughout his body. He could already feel most of the blood in his body travelling south, and from what he could feel poking into his stomach through the fabric of Carson's boxers, he seemed to be in the same situation.

"Mmmph," he moaned, biting at Carson's bottom lip a bit and running his hands through his twin's soaked hair. He felt Carson pressing further up against him, and his legs instinctively came up to wrap around his twin's waist as their kissing grew increasingly desperate and passionate and Carson's hands ended up underneath him, holding him up.

"You're hard," Carson murmured, smiling against Kurt's mouth and rolling his hips, causing Kurt to let out a loud cross between a squeak and a moan.

"So are you," Kurt pointed out, resting his hands on Carson's shoulders for leverage as he rolled his own hips. "Who knew roughhousing in a pool would be such a... _oh fuck_," he groaned as Carson ground into him again, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through him. "Did I ever tell you that you're awfully good at that?"

"Occasionally," replied Carson with a grin as he rolled his hips in small, teasing circles against Kurt's, their very hard erections sliding against each other deliciously. "Doesn't mean I don't like continuing to hear it."

"You're awfully good at _that_," Kurt repeated, his breath catching in his throat at the last word. He leaned back, grinding his hips down to meet Carson's rhythm as his twin held onto him, every thrust helping to build a pleasant heat deep inside of him. He crashed their lips together and kissed Carson as though his life depended on it, his senses completely overtaken with Carson and Carson's skin and Carson's lips, and the splashing of the water all around them, certainly feeling more on the warm side now that they were heating it up.

"Mm'close," Kurt moaned against Carson's mouth, rutting desperately against his twin as the heat inside him coiled tighter and tighter, threatening to burst at any moment. Carson didn't say anything, just thrust faster and kissed Kurt harder, and soon Kurt was digging his nails into Carson's back and wailing as he hit his climax, desperately humping him through his orgasm. He felt Carson shiver against him, and then his twin's face was buried in his neck, his breath hot against Kurt's skin as he gripped him tight. Kurt could feel it as Carson twitched and came, the warm rush of fluid contrasting starkly with the cold of the water they were half submerged in.

"That was unexpected," said Carson quietly after a moment of silence, and Kurt was unsuccessful at holding in a snort.

"Unexpected how?" he asked with a grin. "Every time we're half naked around each other, something like this is bound to happen."

"True," replied Carson, his blue eyes blown almost completely dark and his flushed cheeks obvious even in the moonlight. _He's so gorgeous like this_, Kurt thought, bringing his hands back up to cup the sides of Carson's face. _Almost unfairly beautiful, and he doesn't even realize it._

"I thought we'd at least last five minutes in the water before starting to hump each other, though," Kurt added, smiling and bringing their lips together in another kiss, this one much less rushed and desperate and far more tender and romantic.

"Must be a new record for us," said Carson. "I think we only lasted three minutes before we-"

The sound of footsteps approaching the far side of the pool gate stopped him in mid sentence, and Kurt's heart leaped into his throat as they both stayed completely still, waiting.

"Shit," Carson whispered as the footsteps grew closer and a voice called out "Who the hell is out there?"

"Let's go!" Kurt hissed, pulling himself out of the pool and holding his hand out to Carson, who took it and let himself be half dragged out of the water. "Get the bag!"

Carson grabbed the bag full of clothes and towels in one hand, holding onto Kurt's hand with the other as they ran for cover away from the pool area. "Come on, Kurtsie!" he said, leading him quickly toward the unlocked gate entrance. "Before they spot us!" They practically flew through the gate and ran, dripping wet, all the way back to Carson's apartment building, squealing and giggling like little kids once they'd gotten safely inside and closed the apartment door behind them.

"We're criminals!" Kurt exclaimed, leaning against the closed door and trying to catch his breath. Now that the danger of getting caught was over, he had to admit that he'd just experienced one of the most fun nights of his entire life. It was thrilling, and he felt _good_.

"Yes, we're wanted men," Carson replied beside him, his eyes sparkling with delight. Kurt looked at him, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he took in the sight of his twin, his big brother, his lover, looking so carefree and _happy_. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Carson this happy. It made his stomach tingle with a warm, glowing feeling.

"I wouldn't do well in prison," Kurt said, reaching his arms out and pulling Carson close to him by the waist. "All that orange. How the hell would I accessorize that jumpsuit?"

"You'd manage," Carson said, leaning in for a soft kiss. "But don't worry. I wouldn't let them take you to prison."

"My hero," Kurt cooed, kissing him once more and running his tongue along Carson's lip, just for a taste. "We should dry off. We're getting your floor all wet."

"Yeah," replied Carson. "I guess we are." They still stood there for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes, and Carson looked like he wanted to say something. Kurt looked at him curiously, his head tilted to the side.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I... it's nothing," Carson said quickly. "It's nothing, forget it."

"No, what is it?" asked Kurt, reaching up to brush a strand of wet hair out of Carson's eyes. "Talk to me, honey. No more keeping things bottled up, remember?"

Carson looked at him and then looked down at the floor, biting his lip nervously. "Um... well... I was just wondering if, um... if maybe you'd... I mean, it's no big deal or anything if you don't want to, but I thought maybe you... maybe you could come to therapy with me tomorrow? You know, if... if you _want_ to, of course. You don't have to, I just thought..."

Kurt brought his finger up and gently pressed it to Carson's lips to silence him. "Carsey, honey... of course I'll go with you! Are you sure you want me to?"

Carson nodded, sucking his bottom lip inside his mouth and blushing slightly. "I do. I just... you're always so patient with me when I have episodes, and you just... you're kind of my rock, Kurt. If it weren't for you during these past weeks, I... I just... um... anyway, I really just want you to be a part of my recovery in all the ways you can be. If you want."

"Oh, honey," Kurt whispered, hugging Carson close and pressing their lips together, trying to pour every last ounce of love he felt for him into the kiss. "I'm so happy that you want to let me into that part of your life, baby. I'll be happy to go with you tomorrow."

Carson smiled and kissed him back before hugging him and burying his face in Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt couldn't help but smile to himself as he held him close.

_This is such a big step for him, and was probably really difficult for him to decide. I won't let him down. Never will I let him down. Not if I can help it._

* * *

Nervous didn't even begin to describe the way Carson felt when he woke up the next morning, his head leaning against Kurt's chest and his twin's arms wrapped securely around him. Today he was actually bringing Kurt to therapy with him. _Therapy_. He was honestly surprised that he was even able to reach that decision without severely freaking out, but here he was. Waking up on a Saturday morning, about to let the love of his life see him attend a session with a mental health professional.

The amount of convincing he'd had to do to himself to get to that place was astonishing. He'd been considering it for weeks. He'd even come close to actually asking Kurt several times before, but he'd always lost his nerve. _What if he doesn't really want to go? What if he just goes to humor me? What if he goes and then he decides that I really am a crazy piece of shit and that he'd be much better off hopping the first plane back to New York and finding that Adam guy from Facebook? Adam doesn't have a shit ton of mental problems to deal with, after all._

It had taken him a very long time to get to a place where he could tell himself to calm down. That Kurt loved him and truly cared for him, and that he ultimately wouldn't think any less of him for having an anxiety disorder, or because he still suffered from episodes of depression occasionally. That he _deserved_ the love and devotion Kurt was unfailingly showing him, and that Kurt wanted to help him with his recovery. He still had his moments where he doubted all of those things, but he knew now that it was only his low self esteem talking and that he needed to fight it with everything he had in him.

And he would. Because now that he had Kurt back, he finally had something to fight for.

"Kurtsie," he whispered, gently shaking Kurt by the shoulder. "Kurtsie, honey?"

"Hrrmphum," Kurt mumbled, sniffling in his sleep. Carson smiled to himself. There were few things more adorable than a half asleep Kurt, unless it was a half asleep Kurtsie Kitty, who was currently snoozing peacefully on the top of Carson's pillow.

"Kurt, we have to get up. My therapy appointment is this morning," said Carson, hating that he had to disturb Kurt's sleep like this. "Unless you want to sleep. You can, if you want. It's no big deal. You can always just come to the next one..."

"No! No, I'm up," said Kurt, his eyes flying open quickly as he rubbed at them with one hand. "I'm not missing this. Just give me a minute."

"Ok," said Carson, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "At least we showered last night. How about I make you breakfast for a change while you wake yourself up?"

Kurt smiled, settling his head back against the pillow. "That'd be nice. What are you eating?"

"A huge bowl of my Lucky Charms," replied Carson, sliding regretfully out of bed as Kurtsie Kitty picked up on the fact that there was conversation about food happening around him and followed him, as though he hadn't just been sleeping two seconds before. "What would you like?"

"Do we have any Rooster O's left?" asked Kurt.

"You mean Cock Rings? Yes, we have about half a box," replied Carson with a grin.

"They're called Rooster O's," said Kurt.

"One bowl of Cock Rings, coming right up," said Carson brightly, walking out of the bedroom as Kurt half heartedly threw a pillow at him. Kurtsie Kitty was hot at his heels, wrapping himself around Carson's ankles and meowing insistently as soon as they entered the kitchen.

"I know, little guy. Don't worry, I'm gonna feed you first," cooed Carson, leaning down to pet the cat's head as he reached into the cupboard for a can of cat food. "It's a big day for me, little guy," he said as he opened the can and got out a spoon. "Kurt is coming with me to therapy, and I'm nervous. I don't know what he's going to think of the whole thing. Or what Dr. McNeil will say to him. I just want everything to go well, you know?"

Kurtsie Kitty didn't answer him, except to meow more insistently until Carson had finished spooning the can of food into his dish. He dug right in, practically inhaling half the food before Carson even had time to finish filling his water dish.

"Jesus, kitty," he said incredulously. "I'll never cease to be amazed at your appetite." He set about getting bowls, spoons, and cereal boxes out, and had everything set neatly on the table by the time Kurt wandered in, yawning and dressed in a pair of Carson's pajama pants and a hoodie. Carson wasn't sure why he found it so hot when Kurt wore his clothes, but he couldn't deny that there was definitely something very sexy about seeing Kurt in grungy clothes, his hair still messed up and his eyes still bleary with sleep.

_I'm so fucking weird._

"Hey, beautiful," he said brightly, pouring some Rooster O's into a bowl and setting it at Kurt's place.

"Beautiful hell," Kurt replied. "I'm a mess."

"No you're not," Carson protested. "You're gorgeous like this. You look like you spent the night being well fucked."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "Is my memory failing me, or did I _not_ spend the night getting well fucked? We didn't exactly go right to sleep after we came back home from our brief foray into a life of crime."

Carson felt himself blushing as he poured his Lucky Charms into his own bowl. "Well, it's kind of your fault for suggesting that we shower together."

"It's just as much your fault for having the utter inability to keep your hands to yourself whenever we shower together," Kurt pointed out with a smile as he poured milk onto his cereal. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand. I never thought being fucked right into the shower wall would be so sexy, but I was proven wrong last night."

"See? We had fun," said Carson, pouring milk onto his Lucky Charms and digging a spoon into the bowl. "Now, eat your Cock Rings."

"Don't mind if I do," said Kurt happily, spooning some Rooster O's into his mouth and smiling across the table at Carson. "Have you noticed that you're eating again? I mean, without me having to beg you."

Carson looked at him curiously. "I guess so," he replied through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. Come to think of it, he _had_ gotten a bit of an appetite back ever since Kurt had come back to him. He supposed that had a lot to do with the fact that he felt a bit happier in general now that he wasn't facing his days alone with his damaging, self destructive thoughts. "I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoy eating."

"See that you never forget again," said Kurt, reaching across the table to hold Carson's hand.

"I won't," Carson promised, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze. They ate the rest of their breakfasts in silence, shooting the occasional smile or shy look to each other, and Carson tried for the millionth time to convince himself that it would be a good day. That everything would be fine. _He loves me. He cares about me. He wants to be a part of my healing process, and he's coming with me to support me. Because he loves me. And I deserve that love. I do. He loves me._

_He loves me, he loves me, he loves me_.

"I love you," Kurt whispered into his ear later that morning, after they'd gotten off their bus and navigated their way to the sprawling office building that housed the mental health clinic. "I know this is hard for you, but I just want you to know that I love you so much for trusting me to come here with you. Ok?"

Carson smiled, putting an arm around Kurt's waist and pulling him close for a side hug. He looked around quickly before sneaking a kiss on Kurt's lips. "I know. I love you too."

"Ok, let's do this," said Kurt as they entered the building together. Carson checked in with the receptionist and sat down beside Kurt in the waiting room. His twin had managed to find the only issue of _Vogue_ in the entire room and was paging through it thoughtfully, occasionally making a face at various outfits that Carson supposed he didn't approve of. Seeing him reading _Vogue_ made his stomach twist as he remembered that he still hadn't come up with a solution for what to do after the summer ended. He definitely didn't want Kurt staying in Chicago and missing out on his job and his classes at NYADA. Sure, Isabelle Wright was being an absolute angel and giving him an extended leave to be here with Carson right now, but surely that wasn't going to last forever. She'd certainly want him back at some point or have to let him go, and Carson didn't want that to happen. The guilt would kill him.

_There has to be something we can do for my last year here_, he mused, biting his lip in frustration as he strained his brain to come up with something. Just like the last few hundred times he'd done this, nothing whatsoever came to him, and he heaved a huge, frustrated sigh.

"You ok?" asked Kurt, sounding concerned as he looked up from his magazine and over at Carson. Carson nodded quickly.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he insisted. He knew better than to bring the subject up to Kurt by now. His twin would only stubbornly insist that he was staying in Chicago and that if Carson had any ideas about separating for a year, then he could just forget them right that instant.

_But Kurt, you don't understand, I don't want to be the reason that you put your entire future on hold. I'd feel terrible about it, no matter how much you insist that it doesn't bother you._

"Mr. Hummel? Dr. McNeil will see you now," the receptionist announced, jarring Carson right out of his thoughts.

"Ok, thank you," he said, standing up as Kurt put down the magazine and did the same.

"Ready?" asked Kurt, giving him a reassuring smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be," replied Carson, taking Kurt's hand and leading him through the door and down the hallway that led to Dr. McNeil's office. He took a deep breath and poked his head around the corner of the door frame, suddenly shy about entering.

"Carson! Come on in," said Dr. McNeil, waving him and Kurt inside. Carson entered the office, still holding tightly to Kurt's hand and trying to swallow down his nervousness. _Please, let this go well._

"Um, hi," he said awkwardly, looking from Kurt to the doctor and then down at the floor. "Dr. McNeil, this is my-"

"Kurt," said Dr. McNeil, getting up from her chair and extending her hand out for Kurt to shake. "I'm Carson's doctor, Dr. McNeil. Your brother has told me so much about you, Kurt. I almost feel as though I know you."

"Really?" replied Kurt, a small smile spreading across his face. "All good things, I hope."

"Nothing but glowing reviews," said Dr. McNeil with a grin. "You're certainly the apple of his eye. To hear him talk, one would think you'd hung the moon and the stars."

"Is that so?" said Kurt, smiling widely now and squeezing Carson's hand.

"Anyway," said Carson, feeling himself blushing furiously now, "I brought Kurt with me today because, well... I guess, now that he's... um... back in my life... I want him to be a part of the process from now on. You know... the healing process. And stuff." He felt like an absolute idiot.

"And I just want to do anything that I can to support him," Kurt added as all three of them took seats. "As his... his brother... I want to help him through this in any way possible."

"Of course," said Dr. McNeil. "Very understandable. In fact, if I may say so, I think that this will be a good thing for you, Carson. I've certainly noticed a marked change in you ever since you and Kurt have reunited. You've seemed significantly happier than in past sessions."

"Really?" asked Kurt.

"Very much so," replied Dr. McNeil. "In fact, it was almost like someone flipped a switch. Oh, it was very subtle at first, but there was no mistaking that something had definitely changed for the better."

_It was Kurt_, thought Carson, feeling himself smiling slightly as he blushed down at his feet. _He appeared like an angel out of nowhere and set me free. Or, at least, is slowly setting me free. Progress. And to think that I kind of owe all of this to Santana._

_Santana. Fuck. I never really thanked her properly, did I? All I did was yell at her and be an ungrateful little shit. I should talk to her and tell her that I forgive her._

It was an interesting counseling session, for sure. Dr. McNeil seemed very interested in Kurt, and spent a great deal of time asking him much of the same questions that she had asked Carson so many times before, about their childhood, their interaction, their relationship with their parents and so forth. Carson couldn't help but grin to himself as Kurt gave her almost exactly the same answers for most of the questions as Carson himself had.

_Two peas in a pod when it comes to some things, I swear._

"She was nice," said Kurt brightly as they made their way home that day. "I'm really glad that she outlined your treatment plan for me. I really feel like we're in this together now."

Carson squeezed his hand, bumping their shoulders together affectionately. "I'm relieved."

"Relieved?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah. I was so nervous about you coming with me today. Like... even though you've seen me in the middle of panic attacks, I thought somehow that bringing you to Dr. McNeil's with me would be too much for you to handle," Carson said. "That you'd think I was some weirdo or something."

"Oh, honey," said Kurt, stopping right in the middle of the street to give him a hug. "Never would I ever think that way about you. Understand?"

Carson nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Good," said Kurt, parting from the hug and taking Carson's hand again in his own.

"I think I need to talk to Santana," Carson blurted out as they walked down the street toward the bus stop. "I... I never really thanked her. If it wasn't for her, I might not have you back with me right now, because I was too busy being an asshole. She did us both a huge favor, you know?"

Kurt smiled and nodded in agreement. "I know. Maybe you should call her today."

"I think I will," said Carson. _I will. It'll be nice to talk to her, anyway. I kind of miss her._

He took the opportunity later that night, as Kurt disappeared into the bathroom to perform his rigorous nightly skin care regimen. Carson figured that he had at least forty-five minutes, since Kurt was very thorough when it came to his skin. He settled himself comfortably down on the bed with Kurtsie Kitty in his lap and his phone in hand.

"Let's call Aunt Santana, little guy," he said out loud as he dialed Santana's number. "I think we owe her a lot, don't you agree?" Kurtsie Kitty only swished his tail in response and began delicately licking his paw.

"Well, if it isn't Diane Sawyer," came Santana's familiar voice after the third ring.

"Hi, Santana," said Carson, absentmindedly playing with a loose thread on the comforter in front of him. "Um... how are you?" _Well, this is just awkward as hell, isn't it?_

"I'm good," she replied. "Um... how are you?"

"Good," said Carson.

"Look, Carson, I just hope you know that I'm really sorry for telling Kurt what I saw," Santana suddenly blurted out. "But you looked like complete shit, no offense, and I was really worried, because, well... ok, like I've said to Kurt, and if you ever tell anyone else that I said this, I'll deny it until the fucking cows come home, but I kind of think of you and Kurt as family. Like... I don't know... like the brothers I never had, I guess. And seeing you looking all depressed and skinny scared the shit out of me. I _had_ to tell Kurt."

Carson was silent for a minute, absorbing all the information he'd just heard. Santana thought of him like family? He wasn't sure whether he should be touched or creeped out.

"I forgive you," he said. "I really do. Actually, that was the reason I called. I, um... I wanted to thank you. For telling Kurt. I mean, I wanted to strangle you and hide the body under the floorboards at the time, but I know now that you were only doing it for my own good. And you have no idea how much it means to me to have Kurt back in my life, so... I guess... thank you." He took a deep breath, feeling good and proud of himself for actually being able to thank someone with limited awkwardness, for once in his life.

"You're welcome," replied Santana.

"So..." said Carson, feeling awkwardness beginning to settle in now that he had no idea what to say to her.

"So, now you can make it up to me by spilling some dirty details about your reignited sex life," said Santana cheerfully, and Carson could practically see her sitting with her legs crossed, examining the nails of one hand nonchalantly as she spoke. "Confession time. How many places have you guys done the dirty in?"

"None of your fucking business," said Carson, smiling to himself. "I don't kiss and tell, as I've told you multiple times."

"Please?"

"No."

"Come on, I'm the one who got you together in the first place and then _back_ together," Santana whined.

"Nope," said Carson.

"You suck," Santana pouted. "Ok, fine. Don't tell me. So, is Kurt moving residence to Chicago permanently now that you're all in love again?"

"Oh god, no," said Carson, shaking his head as if she could see him do it. "I have a year left here at Northwestern, and I don't know what we're going to do when the summer is over, but I really don't want to be responsible for him delaying NYADA for a year. But he's insisting on staying, and I don't know what to do. He doesn't want me alone, which I understand. I really, really do. And I don't want to be apart from him, either, but... oh, I don't know. Everything is so fucking complicated."

"So what if he defers NYADA for a year?" asked Santana. "It's just a year, not forever."

"I know, but do you have any idea how guilty I would feel if he put his future on hold just because of me?" asked Carson. "The last thing I need is more guilt. And the last thing _he_ needs is to stop his life to take care of his crazy ass brother lover. I don't want that for him. I really don't."

Santana was silent for a minute, causing Carson to have to take the phone away from his ear for a second to make sure that he hadn't dropped the call. "Santana? You there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah... I'm still here, Katie Couric. I just... I was thinking."

"About?"

"Well... ok, just hear me out. You don't want Kurt to stay in Chicago while you finish school because that will delay his future or whatever the hell. Right?"

"Right," replied Carson, wondering where the hell she was going with this.

"Ok. And obviously, Kurt doesn't want to leave you alone because he's worried. Right?"

"Right," said Carson.

"Why don't I just come live with you for a year?" Santana asked.

Carson was rendered completely speechless for a minute before he found his voice. "What the _fuck?_"

"I said, why don't I just come live with you for a year?" Santana repeated. "Look, I have nothing actually keeping me here in New York. I'm not in school and I'm working three dead end jobs to pay my share of the rent of this hell hole that I have to share with Berry and Blowties. Trust me, living with you would be a fucking relief. And then Kurt could continue at NYADA without worrying about you being alone. Get it?"

"But... I mean... why..." Carson sputtered.

"Oh, please. You know what? We're doing it," Santana said determinedly. "I think it's brilliant."

"But... Kurt will never agree to this," Carson protested. "And where is _he_ going to live? I don't want him living at the loft with Blaine. I don't ever want him anywhere near Blaine again."

"Well, I'm sure he can find a little place for himself," said Santana. "Or, you know, we can kick Blaine out, since his gelled ass shouldn't even be living here _anyway_. I've been more than patient with not confronting that little bitchlet, and I'm just about at the end of my rope. That asshole practically called me a whore the other day just because one of my jobs happens to involve cage dancing."

"I'm sorry, _why_ has he not been kicked out yet?" asked Carson, anger beginning to rise in him as he thought about Blaine living in the loft, the loft that should have been Kurt's (and Rachel's and Santana's) sanctuary. Living there when he had no fucking right, and disrespecting the people that did have a right to be living there, on top of it. It wasn't fair.

"Because he pays practically all the rent, and Berry isn't about to let him go," replied Santana sullenly. "If I was able to find my own place that I could actually afford by myself, I'd have been out of here ages ago... you, um... you _do_ know why he was living here, don't you?"

"Yes," Carson grumbled. "And if I didn't think he was a complete asshole before, which I _did_, I have undeniable proof now. I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is, blackmailing Kurt like that, but he can't get away with it. I just wish I knew how to make him pay."

"I feel you," said Santana.

"And now I'm nervous about Kurt being in New York alone," said Carson. "With that jackass running around the city unsupervised, I don't trust him not to stalk Kurt. What if he gets him somewhere alone, and... and... fuck, why does everything have to be so goddamn complicated?"

"I might have an idea," said Santana.

"What?"

"I... I might have... you know what? I'll call you tomorrow," she said quickly, sounding excited about something.

"Santana, you can't just do that to me... Santana? Santana!" Carson shouted into the phone, but it was too late. She had already hung up. Not a moment too soon, because Kurt walked back into the bedroom at that moment, dressed in his own silky pajamas and smelling like a pleasant combination of all his various fruit scented face creams.

"What did Santana do to you?" he asked curiously, hopping onto the bed and snuggling up to Carson's side. "Do I need to kick her ass?"

"No," said Carson, throwing his arms around Kurt and inhaling the clean scent of his hair. _Actually, we both may need to KISS her ass, depending on what her idea is._

"Did she sound ok?" asked Kurt, sounding slightly worried.

"Yeah. Yeah, she sounded fine," replied Carson.

"I just don't like her being there alone with Blaine all the time while Rachel is out," said Kurt. "I'm not sure if he knows she stole money from him to come here and find you."

"She did?" asked Carson, smiling at the thought. "Go Santana."

"Yeah, she did, and I'm scared of what he'd do to her if he knew," murmured Kurt. "I wish she'd just move out. Rachel, too. Let him live at the loft by himself."

_Well, Kurt, _thought Carson, smiling as he kissed Kurt's hair, _you just might get most of that wish. And have the problem of leaving me alone solved at the same time._

* * *

"I'm sorry, you want me to do _WHAT_?" exclaimed Kurt several days later, blinking at Carson in confusion as if he was trying to determine if his twin had really just said what he thought he'd said, or if he was just hallucinating.

"I want you to move in with Sebastian. And Santana would move in here with me. Just for the year. Until I graduate from Northwestern," said Carson in a rush.

"But... but... _Sebastian Smythe_?" asked Kurt incredulously, clearly refusing to believe that Carson was really asking him to do this. "Of all people? I can barely stand to be in the same room as Sebastian for an hour, and you want me to live with the guy for a _year_?"

Carson sighed. Kurt had a point. A very, very good point. Carson hadn't exactly welcomed the idea with open arms when it had first been presented to him, either. Had he known that Santana's brilliant idea would be to ask Sebastian, who was now living in a fully paid for apartment in one of New York City's nicest neighborhoods while attending college at NYU, to invite Kurt to stay for the year, he probably would have told her not to. But he hadn't been consulted, and before he'd known what had hit him, he'd been answering a phone call from a very eager Sebastian.

"I would like to offer Kurt a place to stay for the year," he'd said as soon as Carson answered the phone, without so much as a "Hello" first.

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Carson.

"I'm sorry, allow me to explain," Sebastian backtracked. "Your friend Santana popped by to visit me the other day. She's still quite the firecracker, I'll give her that. Practically forced her way into my apartment, saying that we needed to chat, and that I owed her a favor for throwing a slushie at her three years ago."

"And?" Carson pressed, eager for Sebastian to just get to the point already.

"Right. Well, she explained the rather difficult situation that you boys currently find yourselves in," said Sebastian casually. "I must say, it's quite a doozy. You don't want to be responsible for hindering Kurt's success, Kurt doesn't want you alone, nobody wants Kurt near Blaine, and I couldn't agree more," he continued. "If I do say so myself, my apartment is pretty huge. And I've been in the market for a roommate for a little while. It gets rather lonely here, you know. I might pick up a lot of guys, but I'm still alone at the end of the day."

Carson had no idea what to say to any of that, except to clear his throat. "What's your angle?" he asked at last. "Why should I trust you around Kurt unsupervised for an entire year?"

"Do you really think that little of me?" asked Sebastian, sounding wounded. "I'm hurt, Carson. I know full well that you're the only one allowed inside those sinfully tight designer pants, and I resent the fact that you would insinuate that I would try something. I'd like to think that you consider me something of a friend."

Carson sighed. "Look, Sebastian, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer, but Kurt will never agree to it. And I don't want to ask him to do something that will make him uncomfortable, so..."

"I get it. He's probably not going to want to live with me, but... just ask him," said Sebastian. "The worst he can say is no."

So now Carson found himself sitting at the kitchen table across from a very confused, very pissed looking Kurt, and hoping against hope that his twin wouldn't hate him for even suggesting that he live with Sebastian.

"I know that Sebastian isn't your favorite person, Kurtsie, but... just hear me out, ok?" Carson pleaded, reaching across the table for Kurt's hand. "I wasn't thrilled with the idea at first, either, but the more I think about it, the more I think that this is really a pretty good solution. I mean, I don't want to be separated from you for another year. I really, really _don't_. But... ok, Kurt, the thing is, is that if I have to spend the year thinking about how you should be continuing with all the good things in your life... _Vogue_, NYADA, all of that... then I'm going to feel so guilty, and I'm pretty sure that I can't handle any more guilt in my life right now. Not after all the shit I've already put you through. It's too much. I love you, and I want to start doing right by you, even if it means sacrificing some things to do it."

"But... I don't want to leave you alone," Kurt protested, his eyes shining as though he were about to start crying. "You need me."

"I wouldn't be alone," said Carson, giving him a small smile. "Santana would be here with me."

"She can't take care of you like I can," Kurt argued. "And I don't want her to take care of you, anyway. _I_ want to do it."

"I know, baby. I know. But... I guess I'm begging you, here," said Carson quietly, feeling awful as he noticed that tears were definitely now forming in Kurt's eyes. "Don't make me deal with more guilt. Please? If you don't want to live with Sebastian, then don't. We can find you a secure place for yourself, but... I would really feel better if you were living with someone. It's just, with Blaine living in the city... and we don't have any idea what he'd get it into his head to do..."

Kurt looked solemnly down at the table, avoiding Carson's eyes. "I hate this," he said quietly.

"I don't exactly love it, either," said Carson. "But I really think..."

"The last time we separated, you broke up with me," Kurt said in a shaky voice. It might as well have been a knife to Carson's gut as he watched Kurt's face begin to crumple.

"Oh god... oh no, baby, please..." he babbled, getting up from his seat and rushing to Kurt's side, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Honey, no. _No_. That's not going to happen again, I swear it. Please, you have to believe me. I was so fucked up then, and now I'm starting to get better. I know how much that hurt you the last time, and I'd rather die than do that to you again. You won't lose me like that this time. You _won't_. I promise, Kurt. With everything I have, I promise that it's just for a year, and then we'll be together always."

"I don't know if I can do it, Carsey," Kurt whispered through his tears. "I don't know if I can be apart from you that long. I don't think I'm capable of it, I won't be able to... to..."

Carson felt like a complete asshole right then, hugging Kurt protectively close while asking him to do something he was going to hate, just because it would make Carson feel better. How fucking selfish was he? _You're hurting him, Carson. Again. Fucking stop it. Let him stay in Chicago if he wants, but don't fucking ask him to do this if he..._

"I'll do it."

"Huh?" asked Carson, unsure whether he'd actually just heard Kurt or not.

"I said I'll do it," Kurt repeated. "I'll live with Sebastian."

"Kurt," Carson protested, shaking his head, "Kurt, baby, no. I was wrong. You don't have to..."

"No, I'll do it," said Kurt, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Because I love you, I'll do it. But you have to promise me. Fucking _promise_ me that you're not going to do what you did last time. The very second I sense you retreating away from me, I'm coming straight back here, and I'd love to see you try to stop me. Do you understand?"

Carson nodded, smiling a little at the forcefulness in Kurt's voice. "I understand."

"And you have to promise..." Kurt continued, swallowing and looking down at the floor. "You have to promise that you won't break my heart again."

Carson felt tears welling up in his own eyes as they locked with Kurt's. He nodded emphatically, burying his face in Kurt's neck as he held him as tightly as he could. "I promise. I promise, Kurtsie. I promise."

"Just until you graduate," Kurt murmured, as if to confirm.

"Just until I graduate."

"And then we'll be together forever and get our own little apartment with space for your dumb cat to run around, and we'll grow old together and die on the same day like in _The Notebook_," Kurt continued.

Carson laughed. "Yes. Yes, all of that. I promise you that."

"Then..." Kurt said, heaving a huge sigh. "Give me Sebastian's number. He and I have a little chatting to do."

* * *

The rest of the summer passed quickly. Too quickly for Kurt's liking. It seemed as if it was only in the blink of an eye that a whole other month and a half had passed, and then he and Carson were busy making preparations to go their separate ways. Again.

_He promised me this time_, Kurt constantly reassured himself whenever he felt nervousness setting in. _He promised that he wouldn't hurt me again. And I'm pretty sure he meant it. _

_Of course he meant it. He loves me. I love him. This is only temporary._

So he put it out of his mind, determined to hang on to his memories of this summer for as long as possible. Aside from Christmas, he wouldn't be seeing Carson again until next summer, so he knew he had to make those memories count. He cherished every moonlight walk down the city streets, every moment spent cuddled together on the couch watching television. Every moment of having a makeout session interrupted by Kurtsie Kitty, whom Kurt had to admit to himself he would miss almost as much as he would miss Carson, even if he was a little furry demon.

He tucked away every memory of wandering hands and heated skin sliding together as they made love, every kiss and every gentle caress afterwards. Every moment spent holding Carson in his arms and watching him sleep, counting his eyelashes and lightly kissing the scattering of freckles across his forehead.

_I'm going to miss you, baby. I don't think you even realize how much._

"Are you ready to go, baby?" asked Carson on the day of their scheduled flight to New York. Carson was planning to go with him to help him move the rest of his things out of the loft and into Sebastian's apartment before heading back to Chicago with Santana. It was the last two days that Kurt would spend with his twin for a very long time, and he was more than a little sad, but he put on a brave face for Carson's sake and nodded.

"Mmm-hmm. I just really hope that Blaine has already left by the time we get there," Kurt replied. They had chosen this weekend for the move specifically because Santana had informed them that Blaine had planned a visit to Lima to visit his parents before classes began again, and thus they wouldn't need to worry about running into him.

"Knowing that asshole, I wouldn't be surprised if he was there to greet us with fucking bells on," Carson murmured, and Kurt laughed as he led them out of the apartment and into the elevator.

_He won't be there_, Kurt reassured himself throughout the plane ride. _He'll be far away in Lima, and I won't have to deal with seeing him, knowing what he's done... what he was willing to do..._

He decided not to think about it for the rest of the flight, and by the time they landed in New York and were on their way to Bushwick, he had managed to somehow convince himself that everything would be fine.

As usual, he should have known better. They were greeted in the hallway outside the apartment by a frantic Santana, who was waving her phone around wildly and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Didn't either of you get my texts?" she asked. "Fuck, I've been trying to get in touch with you all morning to tell you to wait until tonight to come, because..."

"Well, look who's here," came a familiar voice from behind her, and Kurt winced as Blaine stepped around her to look them over, his arms crossed over his chest. "Haven't seen you all summer, Kurt. I thought maybe you'd decided to travel a bit. Obviously I knew you were avoiding me. Should have known you were with _him_," he said, giving Carson a cold look that made Kurt's stomach seize in anger.

"I have nothing to say to you, Blaine," said Kurt through gritted teeth, determined to just pack the rest of his things and get out of there without incident. "Excuse us." He pushed past Blaine, leading Carson by the hand into the apartment and heading straight for his bedroom.

"Ok," he said in a shaky voice, trying to retain his composure for Carson's sake. "I see that Santana already has boxes for us in here, so... um... basically we're just packing clothes and picture frames and knick knacks. Stuff like that. Sebastian is sending someone over for the bed and dresser, so why don't you start emptying the drawers for me and putting all the stuff in that box," he said, pointing. "And I'll work on the closet." Carson nodded and pulled a drawer open, beginning to wrap items in newspaper to put inside the box.

"So, how _was_ your summer, Kurt?" asked Blaine, strolling into the room and leaning against the wall, still crossing his arms over his chest. Kurt refused to answer him, taking clothes down from the closet and folding them as though he hadn't heard. Carson seemed to be trying to hold his tongue as well, for which Kurt was very grateful.

"I bet it was fun," Blaine continued, unaffected by the twins' silence. "Hanging out, shooting the shit, having tons of disgusting, incestuous sex that would surely make your father cry if he knew about it. Fun."

"Shut the fuck up," Carson growled, turning to face him, and Kurt's heart jumped into his throat as he watched his twin take a step in Blaine's direction, looking pissed off beyond belief.

"What was that?" asked Blaine sweetly, flashing Carson a mouth full of teeth. "If I were you, I'd be keeping my mouth shut, _Carsey_. I can ruin you in a second by just showing my laptop to the police, so you would do well to remember that. I'm sure Kurt told you all about that while he was sucking your dick like a little slut."

"I said shut the fuck _UP_!" Carson exclaimed. "You will not talk about him like that, asshole."

"I'll talk however I want," Blaine retorted. "In fact, I've always wondered just what your father would say if someone were to _talk_ to him about what you two get up to when you're alone. I'm sure he wouldn't be too pleased to hear that his two precious little boys are a little too into each other. It just might give him another heart attack."

"Ok, you needs to step off before I tear your balls off," said Santana, storming into the room and getting up in Blaine's face. "I've been more than patient with your warbling ass, and now you're gonna shut the fuck up and listen, because..."

"I don't think so," said Blaine, holding a finger up to Santana's face to silence her. "I'm not done saying what I need to say." He turned back to the twins and gave each of them an evil smile that waved only slightly into a frown when Kurt stepped up to Carson and put his arms around him protectively.

"How sweet," he said in a mocking tone. "Kurt, I really am pretty disappointed that you'd choose him over me. I can give you so much more than he can. I have money, I could take care of you, I'm not _related_. Not to mention that I'm probably a hell of a lot better in bed, especially since I've never taken ten thousand volts of electricity that no doubt must have affected sexual performance quite a bit..."

"Shut up," Kurt ordered, anger coursing through his veins and threatening to erupt at any second.

"Enjoy him, Carson, I guess," Blaine continued with a shrug. "You know, I felt just a little hopeful when I watched that lightning strike your pompous ass down. If only it had finished the job, I might have had a chance."

That was it. That was the straw that broke the camel's back, and Kurt was done. He was so angry he was literally seeing red as he stormed over to Blaine. He didn't know what he was going to do until he felt his fist connect with Blaine's face with a satisfying crunching noise, and he watched, shocked at his own strength, as Blaine cursed and fell to the ground, clutching his nose.

"Don't you ever fucking talk to him again," Kurt said in a strangely quiet, calm voice for all the anger he was feeling right then. "If you ever so much as _look_ at him ever again, I will kill you, do you understand? _I WILL KILL YOU._"

Blaine just looked at him for a second in shock. Carson and Santana were doing the same, and Kurt was beyond caring. He would do what he had to in order to protect Carson, his baby, his precious twin, his lover, and his future husband. Carson was all that mattered. He was all that would ever matter, and Kurt would be damned if he was going to let Blaine so much as utter his name ever again without dire consequences.

"You're done, Kurt," said Blaine, finally finding his voice. "You're done, and so will Carson be after I go to the police."

"With what?" spoke up Santana, her face a storm cloud. "The pictures of your poor, bruised little face? Yeah, I deleted those yesterday. You should really learn to password protect your shit. And by the way," she added, walking over to him and landing a well placed kick right to his crotch as he doubled over in pain, "That's a Lima Heights present from me to you for being such a pathetic asshole. And if you so much as bat an eyelash at the police, please note that I can go to them too, with plenty of documented evidence that you've committed stalking, sexual and physical abuse, and fraud just in the past few years. Not to fucking mention that walking away from Carson and leaving him to fucking _die in the street_ would automatically land you in hot water even without any of the other shit, so if I were you, I'd be packing my shit and leaving as soon as possible. Or don't. I don't think any of us really care anymore. Rot here with Berry for all I care, although I don't think even she deserves that."

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur for Kurt. He barely remembered packing the rest of his things, or riding with Carson and Santana in relative silence over to Sebastian's building, where Sebastian was there to greet them with threesome jokes that quickly turned to extremely curious eyes, clearly wondering why the three of them looked so shell shocked.

But the memory of Blaine picking himself up off the floor after one last kick from Santana's high heel and glaring at them all before storming out of the apartment... the memory of the shiver his face sent down Kurt's spine would stay with him for years, he knew.

And the memory of Carson breaking the silence of the room with a small "He watched me get struck?" would stay with him forever, much like the memory of him and Santana immediately wrapping him in a weird sort of group hug.

_We're kind of a weird sort of family_, Kurt remembered thinking as he caught a glimpse of them in his mirror. _I think I like it._

"I'm going to miss you so much," he whispered in Carson's ear that night as they lay together in one of the guest bedrooms of Sebastian's gigantic apartment, still trying to shake off the events of the day. He kind of just wanted to forget it, and forget Blaine altogether. Frankly, if he never had to think about Blaine again in his life, he would be overjoyed. He could sense that Carson felt the same. That they both just wanted to get on with their lives.

"Not as much as I'll miss you," replied Carson. "We'll Skype every day, right?"

"Of course," said Kurt, kissing him on the lips. "And text, and Facebook chat, and... we'll never be out of contact. Ok?"

Carson nodded. "Hold me one last time?" he asked, cuddling close to Kurt's side. Kurt choked back a sob and nodded, wrapping his arms tightly around Carson and wishing he never had to let him go.

_Just for a year._

* * *

"Now remember, Smythe, there will be no touching, ever, at any time," Carson reminded Sebastian the next afternoon as he and Santana stood in the hallway outside the apartment, suitcases in hand and ready to leave for their flight back to Chicago. It had been an emotional morning as he and Kurt practically stayed in each other's arms throughout breakfast and beyond, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

"I know, I know," said Sebastian, nodding. "You told me three times since breakfast."

"Because it's important," said Carson, glaring at him. "In fact, I want at least an arm's length of space between you at all times. And also, at no point are you to look at him naked. When he showers, I would prefer it if you left the building altogether..."

"Carson," Kurt said, blushing right to the roots of his hair.

"Wait, am I allowed to touch him if he's about to get hit by a cab?" asked Sebastian with a sly grin. "What about if he's being mugged? Or choking? Can I give him the Heimlich maneuver, or...?"

"Oh my _god_, I didn't think about any of that!" exclaimed Carson, his mind suddenly filled with images of all the horrible things that could happen to Kurt.

"Jesus, Sebastian, shut up!" said Kurt with an eye roll. "He has anxiety!"

"Right, I'm sorry. I forgot," said Sebastian. "Incidentally, how much does all of this increase my chances of getting a threesome eventually?"

"It doesn't," Kurt and Carson replied at the same time.

"Just checking."

They said their goodbyes one last time, and Carson watched Kurt hug Santana and whisper "Take care of him" before he turned back to face him, looking sadder than Carson could ever remember seeing him.

"Skype. Every day," he said, his eyes brimming with tears.

Carson nodded. "Yes."

"We'll see each other at Christmas."

"Of course."

"Santana will make sure you take your pills and stuff."

"I can't fucking _wait_ for her to meet Kurtsie Kitty."

Kurt laughed through his tears and took Carson's hands in his own. "I love you. _Only_ you, and I always will. You know that, right?"

Carson swallowed and nodded. "Of course I do, honey."

"And you promise you won't leave me again?"

Carson pulled him into a hug in reply, feeling their heartbeats thumping in unison through their shirts.

"Never."

_Never again. After this year, I plan to never let you out of my sight or my arms again._

_Because I fully intend to marry you._


	38. Chapter 38

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys. So, here we are. The final stretch. At this point we only have 4, possibly 5 chapters depending on how length, left to go with this story before we move on to a new one. So, we love you for sticking with us and we hope you'll do it a little bit longer (and follow us into the next story). We love you, and you're all awesome.**

**Ok. let's read.**

After all the trials and tribulations that Carson had experienced throughout his young life, he had foolishly assumed that living with a roommate that wasn't Kurt should have been a cake walk.

_How hard can it possibly be_? That was what he had asked himself as his and Santana's plane landed in Chicago and the two of them began the process of moving themselves plus the suitcases full of Santana's things to Carson's apartment. _It's just Santana. She's my friend. She's practically family, really. I owe her so much. This year will be... well... if not awesome, then at least tolerable._

After a couple of days of living with Santana, he was beginning to realize that, just like with most things in his life, it wasn't going to be nearly that simple. Actually, it didn't even take that long. He had an inkling that it was going to be an interesting year five minutes after they'd first entered the apartment building and ran into Mrs. Moore, who was taking her garbage out to the incinerator.

"Hey, handsome," she'd greeted him brightly as she side-eyed Santana, who was raising one eyebrow at the words. "You're back! Have a good weekend?"

"Yeah," Carson mumbled uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot and praying that this exchange wasn't going to last very long. "Great."

"Good, good," Mrs. Moore nodded, turning her attention to Santana and looking her up and down with a tight smile. "And who's this...young lady?" she asked.

"Oh, hi, I don't believe we've met," Santana replied, not missing a beat as she held out her hand and planted a wide, fake smile on her face that Carson knew full well meant that she was slipping into Lima Heights Adjacent mode. "I'm Santana Lopez. Carson's _girlfriend_."

Carson almost choked on his own spit upon hearing those words exit Santana's mouth, and he wasn't sure who was more shocked, himself or Mrs. Moore.

"Girlfriend?" they said at the same time. Santana's smile grew wider as Mrs. Moore's grew tighter.

"Oh, don't be so shy, honey bear," she said sweetly, placing one arm around Carson's shoulder and smiling at Mrs. Moore while Carson tried to look less uncomfortable. "Carson and I are moving in together and have lots to do, so we've got to go, but we'll be seeing you around, k?" Mrs. Moore gaped at her before slowly walking past them, dragging her bag of garbage and looking back at them every few seconds, as though trying to process what she'd just heard.

"Girlfriend?" Carson said again, gingerly removing Santana's arm from around himself and looking at her quizzically. "The fuck?"

"Hey, I just did you a favor," replied Santana as Carson turned the key in the lock to let them into the apartment. "Mrs. Robinson back there is creepy and totally thirsty for the D. Specifically, _your_ D. Now she'll leave you alone. You're welcome."

_She has a point there_, Carson thought. _Ok. Maybe this whole unrelated roommate thing will be cool._

Of course, one thing he hadn't counted on was the fact that Santana was both a bathroom hog and a very messy person. Granted, Carson wasn't exactly neat as a pin himself, but almost twenty combined years of experience with sharing a bedroom and living quarters with Kurt had trained him to be at least moderately tidy. Even during the two years he spent without Kurt, in the deepest and darkest throes of his depression, he'd never been quite as messy as Santana seemed to be.

"Is it really necessary for you to throw your clothes all over the place whenever you change?" he grumbled loudly one morning as he stumbled sleepily around the apartment, picking up stray shirts from every corner of the living room and sighing. It was his first day of the fall semester and he wasn't in a pleasant mood to begin with. "You have a fucking laundry hamper in your room. Can't you, you know... _use_ it?"

He was greeted with silence in response, as Santana was still in the shower. He rolled his eyes and stalked off toward Santana's room, clothes in hand, planning to just toss them on top of her bed and let her deal with them. "And we're buying a fucking timer for the bathroom, too!" he added crankily as he entered her room and threw the clothes in the general direction of the bed. He was about to say something else as he turned around to leave, but immediately forgot what it was and screamed as he was confronted with an eye full of naked Santana coming in from her shower.

"Fuck!" he shouted, closing his eyes and covering them with one hand as he ran out into the hallway and pressed himself against the wall, although not nearly fast enough to save himself from getting a good look. "Ever heard of a towel, Santana? Jesus."

"I like to air dry, Hummel. Relax," came Santana's voice from inside the room. "If you weren't in my room in the first place, you would never have seen a damn thing."

"I wouldn't have _had_ to be in your room if you would learn to keep your clothes in there instead of all over the living room," Carson retorted, still trying to shake the terrifying image of female nudity from his mind. "I'm traumatized for life now."

"Oh please, you're such a drama queen," Santana snorted. "They're just boobs, calm the fuck down. It's not like I haven't caught a glimpse of _your_ goodies."

"The hell?" said Carson, confused.

"Well, if you're going to sleep naked after a loud Skype sex session with Kurt, you should learn to keep your door closed," replied Santana casually. "I passed by your room and caught a very nice peek of your package yesterday morning when you were getting out of bed and putting your underwear on," she continued, exiting the room (thankfully now dressed). "Can I just say that if _that_ is what you've been hiding inside your jeans all these years, I'm frankly surprised that Kurt is still able to walk normally."

"I'd throw something at you right now if I had anything to throw," Carson grumbled as they made their way into the kitchen. "Seriously, we need to talk about boundaries and shit if we're going to be doing this roommate thing for an entire year."

"Ok, ok, calm your tits, Hummel," said Santana, removing two pieces of bread from a bag and placing them in the toaster, leaving a trail of crumbs on the counter in her wake. "I promise to wear a towel when I get out of the shower and not sneak glances at your dick when given the opportunity."

"While you're at it, you should also promise to keep all your bathroom shit in the drawer I cleared out for you and _not_ all over the sink," replied Carson, sitting down at the table and crossing his arms grumpily. "And put your discarded clothes in your hamper. That's what it's for."

Santana rolled her eyes and popped her toast out to butter it. "Ok, ok. Aren't you eating?" she asked, taking a bite and chewing it thoughtfully as she looked at him.

"Not just yet," said Carson. "I have to shower and stuff."

"Make sure you eat," Santana ordered him through a mouthful of toast. "And take your meds. Kurt made me promise to watch you like a hawk."

"I know he did," replied Carson, smiling a little down at his hands. "Clean up your bread crumbs."

"Sure thing, Dad," said Santana sarcastically as Carson got up and headed for the bathroom, sighing. He was already exhausted and he hadn't even been to class yet.

_One day down, a billion more to go._

* * *

While Carson was busy navigating the unfamiliar waters of sharing living space with Santana Lopez, Kurt was dealing with his own version of roommate misadventures. He had to admit to himself that living with Sebastian, for the most part, wasn't turning out to be nearly as bad as he'd imagined. He actually wasn't even sure _what_ he'd been imagining. Maybe nonstop bitching at one another. Or a constant barrage of thinly veiled requests for a threesome from Sebastian. Surprisingly, neither of those things seemed to be coming to pass. In fact, compared to how Kurt had always sort of pictured him in his head, Sebastian was turning out to be a relatively normal, pleasant enough roommate.

During the day, anyway.

Nights were an entirely different story. Sebastian was apparently in the habit of bringing home a different guy almost every night, and even though their bedrooms were at the opposite end of the hall from one another, Kurt could still count on one hand the number of times in the past few weeks that he'd actually had an uninterrupted night's sleep. He wished that he'd been able to find his noise machine when he'd been packing his things at the loft, but for the time being, ear plugs were going to have to do.

"You could keep it down on week nights, you know," he informed Sebastian in a cranky tone one morning as he sat down with a bowl of oatmeal and began to furiously stir it around with a spoon. "Some of us have early morning classes and would like to actually get a good night's sleep instead of listening to a porn shoot happening all night down the hall. And if your nightly screw is still here, he had better leave my organic orange juice alone."

"Aaaw, are you jealous, Kurt?" asked Sebastian, grinning at him from where he stood leaning casually against the kitchen counter, wearing a bathrobe and sipping from a mug of coffee. "You know, if you're lonely you could have just joined us."

"In your dreams," muttered Kurt. "Where'd you meet this one?"

"Campus library," replied Sebastian, walking over to the table and pulling out a chair to sit down. "He checked out my books, and I checked out him. There's something intensely sexy about a guy who wears glasses, which is part of the reason I've always found Carson so hot..."

"Hey," Kurt snapped in a warning tone. "Carson's _mine_."

"I'm aware. Pity," said Sebastian, shaking his head sadly. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about your orange juice. Sean left already."

"Good."

"Incidentally," Sebastian continued, "While we're on the subject of noise, perhaps _you_ should be more careful about _your _volume when you and Carson are in the midst of erotic Skype encounters."

Kurt felt the tips of his ears getting hot as he processed Sebastian's words. "Maybe you shouldn't be eavesdropping on people's private moments."

"Oh, sweetie, I don't _have_ to eavesdrop. I can hear it perfectly well without putting in any effort whatsoever," replied Sebastian with a cheeky grin. "I have to tell you, I always knew that you two having sex would be hot as hell, but if what I've been able to glean from your very loud cyber sex sessions is any indication, it can also get rather on the _kinky _side."

"Shut uuup," Kurt groaned, spooning the last of his oatmeal into his mouth and taking the bowl over to the sink. "And stop staring at my ass. I can feel you looking at it."

"Can you blame me? You can bounce a quarter off that ass."

"Carson would kill you."

"He'd get a little snarky, yeah," agreed Sebastian. "Frankly, I find it hot when he gets that way."

"_Mine._"

_"I know_. Ok, in all seriousness now, how has he been doing?" asked Sebastian.

"He's doing well," Kurt replied, rinsing out his oatmeal bowl and setting it on the rack to dry. "I made Santana swear on a stack of _Vogue_ magazines to keep a sharp eye out and let me know if... if it gets bad. I hate being so far away from him."

"He doesn't like it either," Sebastian pointed out. "He's only doing what he thinks is best for you."

"I know," said Kurt with a small smile.

"It's sweet."

"I know."

"So sweet I might puke rainbows at any moment," continued Sebastian with a grin.

"Oh, shut up," said Kurt with a roll of his eyes. "I have to go. If you have any conquests over today, keep them out of my food, hmm?"

"I solemnly swear," promised Sebastian as Kurt grabbed his bag off the back of a chair and headed out the door. He was halfway down the hallway to the elevator when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he grinned to himself as he looked at the caller identification screen before answering it.

"Hi, baby," he said into the phone, pressing the elevator button as he spoke.

"Morning, beautiful," said Carson, and Kurt could hear him yawning. "Sleep well?"

"I would have, if Sebastian hadn't decided to take home a librarian last night," muttered Kurt. "I swear to god, that guy's DNA was mixed with a rabbit's at birth."

"Poor Kurtsie," said Carson softly. "He's not parading naked men around in front of you, is he? Because I would not approve."

"No," said Kurt. "Not as of yet."

"Good."

"Have you eaten yet?" asked Kurt, stepping into the elevator as the doors finally opened.

"No, but I will. I promise," said Carson.

"And take your pills," continued Kurt.

"Kuuurt, I know," Carson whined. "You worry too much."

"Excuse me, I have every right to worry about you," Kurt said fiercely. "You're my boyfriend, you're a thousand miles away from me, and you're still recovering. It drives me nuts not being able to be there with you."

"I know, honey," said Carson, and Kurt could hear the small smile forming on his face, even over the phone. "But I promise you, everything will be fine. I'm eating. I'm taking care of myself. Santana's making sure of that."

Kurt relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief as the elevator delivered him into the lobby and he made his way out onto the street. "Good. And I've checked the weather for Chicago over the next week, and it's clear skies all the way through. So you should be ok there."

"The only thing I'm _not_ doing on a regular basis is shaving," added Carson, sounding mischievous. "Because I know how much my stubble turns you on. I've got a pretty good growth going on today. It's starting to come in since the last time I shaved."

"Oooh," Kurt replied, shivering pleasantly at the mental image. "Skype date tonight?"

"You know it, baby."

"I should go before I get a boner and have to exchange awkward eye contact with a cab driver," said Kurt, and Carson snorted on the other end of the line.

"Are you going to work or to school?" he asked.

"School first, and then I'm going into the office later today to help Isabelle with a banquet she has to plan," replied Kurt. "It'll be a long day."

"Ok, well, have a good day, sweetheart," said Carson, blowing a kiss into the phone. "I'll talk to you later tonight, ok?"

"Ok. I love you."

"Love you too."

It really was a very long, exhausting day for Kurt, and by the time he'd dragged himself back into the apartment, it was already dark. Thankfully, Sebastian didn't seem to be home yet with whoever he was planning to sleep with that night, so Kurt figured he'd have peace and quiet long enough to have a nice Skype chat with Carson before he got back. He went straight to his bedroom and logged on, unable to wait to see his twin's face.

"Kurtsie!" exclaimed Carson happily as soon as he'd accepted the chat invitation. "Honey, you look exhausted. Did you _just_ get back home?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't wait to see you," said Kurt, settling himself cross legged on the bed and pulling his laptop up to balance on his knees. "How was school today?"

"Long," grumbled Carson. "I'm taking so many classes this semester in order to be able to graduate on time, it's fucking ridiculous."

"Poor baby. Think of how rewarding it will be when you see your name in _The New Yorker_, though," offered Kurt. "And then I'll be able to say "That's my man."

A loud "Aaaaaw" echoed from somewhere on Carson's end and he rolled his eyes, turning his head away from the laptop to stare across the room. "Santana, Jesus! A little privacy, please!"

"Hi, Kurt," came Santana's voice, and then her face was popping into frame while Carson sighed. "How's life with Meerkat? He's still trying desperately to convince you to let him become the meat in a Hummel sandwich, I trust."

"Santana, can you _go_?" Carson whined. "Come on!"

"Ok, ok," she relented, getting up and waving at Kurt before disappearing.

"I'm going to murder her one of these days," Carson muttered, and Kurt laughed.

"She's just being herself, honey. I'm really glad she's there. If you were by yourself over there I would never get anything done because I'd be worrying twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, round the clock."

"Maybe so, but still," said Carson grumpily.

"Aaaw, what can I do to put a smile on that pouty little face?" asked Kurt in a sweet voice, and Carson looked at him with wide, begging eyes.

"Skype kisses?" he suggested, and Kurt smiled.

"Ok," he agreed, leaning forward to graze his lips against the screen where Carson was doing the same. "Better?"

"Much," said Carson, smiling. "You taste just like an LCD screen."

"Dork."

"I love youuuu."

"I love you too."

They ended the call soon afterwards so that Kurt could eat and shower, and he must have been more exhausted than he'd realized, because the minute he crawled back into bed that night, he was out like a light within two minutes of his head hitting the pillow. He might have slept all the way through to the morning, if it weren't for the fact that he was woken out of his slumber by the insistent ringing of his phone. It took him a minute to register that that's what it was, and then he felt his stomach drop when he realized it was Santana calling. Calling him at two in the morning. From Chicago. Where Carson was. _Oh god, is Carson ok?_

"Santana?" he said breathlessly as he answered the call. "Santana, what's going on? Where's Carson? Is he ok?"

"He's um... he's having an attack, Kurt," she replied, sounding tired and awkward. "He wanted me to call you." Kurt swallowed, realizing that he could hear Carson gasping and breathing heavily in the background.

"Kurt? Is that Kurt?" he heard a small, panicked voice say, and then Santana's voice saying "Yeah, hon, it's him."

"Put him on," Kurt ordered her, and there was scuffling as Santana handed the phone over to Carson, who started breathing shakily into it.

"K-kurt?" he asked, sounding so scared and helpless, and Kurt felt like complete shit for being physically unable to hold him right now.

"Carsey," he said soothingly. "Carsey, baby, it's me. I'm here, honey. I'm right here."

"Kurt, I can't breathe, and it's not even raining, and I don't... I don't know what..." Carson babbled. He was definitely crying, and Kurt bit his lip to keep from shedding his own tears. He wanted so badly to scoop Carson up in his arms and never let him go.

"Carson, is Santana there with you still?" he asked. "Carson?" he repeated when there wasn't any response at first. "Honey, put me on speakerphone for a minute, ok?"

"Ok," Carson replied.

"I'm still here, Kurt," he heard Santana say in the background.

"Ok, Santana, I want you to sit beside him and put your arms around him," Kurt ordered, trying to keep his voice steady. He needed to be strong right now for Carson. "Hold him, ok?"

"Ok," Santana agreed, and Kurt heard more rustling.

"Did he take his anxiety pill?" he asked.

"Yeah, he took it a minute ago."

"Ok, good. Now take me off speaker and give the phone back to him," Kurt told her. "Don't stop holding him until he starts to calm down. Ok?"

"Ok," replied Santana, and then Kurt heard Carson's shaky voice on the other end once more.

"Kurt, it hurts," he whined. "My chest hurts so bad."

"I know, sweetheart. I know," soothed Kurt, reaching across the bed for Carsey Teddy and hugging him to his own chest. "Baby, I've got my teddy bear. The one that looks like you. I'm hugging it. Can you feel it? Can you feel me hugging you?"

"Yes," replied Carson. "Yes, I can feel it."

"Ok, good," said Kurt. "Now, close your eyes and focus on my voice, ok? Just listen to my voice. I'm right there with you. I've got you, and I won't let you go. Never. Ok?"

"Ok," whispered Carson.

Kurt closed his own eyes, holding Carsey Teddy tightly and rocking himself back and forth as if he were holding the real Carson. He began humming softly into the phone, hoping that this would be enough to calm his twin down even a little. It seemed like hours, although it was really only about twenty minutes, before Carson's breathing finally started becoming less ragged and his cries had settled into short hiccups.

"Feeling better, Carsey?" asked Kurt.

"Mmm-hmm," replied Carson, sounding thoroughly exhausted. Kurt positively ached to hold him now. It wasn't fair that he had to sit there, states away from Carson and feeling utterly useless while his boyfriend was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I love you, honey," he said softly into the phone, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Get into bed and try to get some sleep, hmm?"

"Will you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?" asked Carson, clearly trying his hardest to retain control of his voice. Kurt felt awful for him. _He must be so embarrassed, especially with Santana there to see this. He doesn't even like ME seeing it._

"Of course I will, honey," he said, settling himself back under the covers and placing the phone next to his ear on the pillow. "I'm right here, ok? I won't leave you."

There was silence on the other end for a moment, and then he heard Carson heave a shaky sigh. "Kurt?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Try to go back to sleep, ok?" said Kurt, feeling a couple of tears start to slide down his cheeks. They didn't say anything else to each other after that. Kurt just lay there, knowing that Carson was doing the same, and knowing that each of them was taking comfort in at least having each other there in some small way.

"Carson?" Kurt whispered into the phone after a while. There was no answer. _He must have fallen back asleep. Poor baby was probably exhausted_, he thought as he hung up. He heard careful footsteps approaching his bedroom door and looked up curiously as someone knocked.

"Yeah?" he called out. The door slowly opened, and Sebastian poked his head inside the room cautiously.

"What is it, Sebastian?" asked Kurt, plugging his phone back into its charger by his bed.

"Um... is Carson ok?" asked Sebastian, biting his lip. He sounded genuinely concerned, which surprised Kurt a little, but he quickly recovered and nodded.

"Yeah. He'll be ok," he replied.

"It gets really bad, huh?"

"Yeah," said Kurt. "And it... it's really hard, not being able to be there to comfort him. I understand why we're apart right now, but I really hate this."

Sebastian nodded in understanding. "It'll be over sooner than you think. Hang in there. Both of you."

"Thanks," said Kurt, smiling. This felt weird, this moment with Sebastian. It almost felt like... friendship?

_New surprises every day_, Kurt thought to himself as Sebastian said good night and closed the bedroom door. _And I guess he's right. It'll be over soon._

_Soon, Carsey. Soon._

* * *

By late October, Carson and Santana had settled into a somewhat comfortable roommate routine. It was actually kind of fun living with her, Carson decided. Of course, he missed Kurt so much that it actually physically hurt sometimes, especially when he could only hear his voice over the phone while he was having a bad anxiety attack and couldn't have what he really wanted, which was to be wrapped up safe and snug in Kurt's arms while his twin stroked his hair and comforted him until he calmed down.

And sure, he and Santana still had their share of arguments, especially since Santana occasionally needed reminding that the living room was not her personal closet. And because she never missed an opportunity to give him a good natured ribbing if she happened to overhear him and Kurt talking on the internet. Carson could definitely live without those things.

On the whole, though, he supposed that he was enjoying the time he was spending as her roommate. Apparently, so was Kurtsie Kitty. The cat had taken an almost instant liking to Santana when she'd moved into the apartment, sometimes even preferring to spend his nights sleeping on her chest instead of Carson's, which he supposed probably made some sense, from Kurtsie Kitty's perspective. Her chest probably made a softer and fluffier bed for him.

He was laying there on the afternoon of Halloween, in fact, while Carson and Santana slumped side by side on the couch, bored out of their minds. Carson had no afternoon or evening classes, and Santana didn't have to show up to her job tending bar several blocks away, so the two of them were faced with a long stretch of evening ahead of them with nothing to do.

"I'm bored," said Santana after several moments of silence had gone by.

"Me too," Carson sighed. Actually, he was more worried than he was bored. Sebastian had apparently convinced a very reluctant Kurt to go with him to a college Halloween party that night, and the very thought of Kurt spending an evening surrounded by drunk guys wasn't doing very much to ease Carson's worried mind. _You'd better guard him with your life, Sebastian, I swear to fuck. Or I'll murder you._

"He's a big boy, Hummel," said Santana, as if she were able to read Carson's mind. "He can handle himself at a party. Calm down. I know you have an anxiety problem, but come on."

"I know _he_ can, I'm just not sure that I trust _others_ to," mumbled Carson, patting the space beside him to try to entice Kurtsie Kitty to come snuggle with him. The cat just looked at him and flicked his tail, settling himself further into Santana's chest. "And I can't help being a worrier. My therapist says it's likely my anxiety problems started even way before the lightning strike. Which makes a lot of sense and explains a lot of shit, now that I think about it."

"Your cat has an unhealthy obsession with my boobs," said Santana thoughtfully, looking down and patting Kurtsie Kitty on the head. "I do like pussy and everything, but..."

"Yeah, please stop talking," said Carson.

"Ok," said Santana. "Let's focus on the dilemma at hand. It's four in the afternoon, on Halloween, and we have shit all to do."

"So what?" said Carson.

"What do you mean, so what? It's _Halloween_, Carson," said Santana pointedly. "We're not teenagers, but we're still young. We should, I don't know... do _something_ with our evening other than sit here on the couch watching AMC's _Poltergeist_ marathon."

"What's wrong with _Poltergeist_?" asked Carson. "We could make a drinking game out of it. Every time someone yells the name Carol Anne, we take a shot. We'll be drunk off our ass by midway through the first movie."

"You can't drink, hon," Santana reminded him. "Your meds."

"Yeah, you're right. Fuck."

"Aren't there kids in this dump of a building?" Santana mused. "We could hand out candy to them, the old fashioned way. Scare the shit out of them in good old Halloween tradition before they get any candy."

"Isn't that kind of mean?" asked Carson.

"Please. I grew up in Lima Heights. People there practically _live_ to scare kids shitless on Halloween night," said Santana, getting up off the couch and causing Kurtsie Kitty to be unceremoniously dumped onto her vacant seat, where he shook his head and licked his paw, as if to restore some of his dignity, before stalking out of the room. "It's what made me the delightful woman I am today."

"We don't have any candy," said Carson.

"No shit, Sherlock. We go out and we _buy_ some. Come on," said Santana, reaching for Carson's hands and dragging him up off the couch. "At the very least, let's go out. I'm bored as fuck sitting here doing nothing."

So Carson let Santana drag him out of the apartment and over to the Halloween Express that always appeared a couple of streets away from Carson's building every year like magic before disappearing until the next October. They didn't actually end up leaving the store for a couple of hours, though. Apparently, Santana in a costume shop was very, very similar to a child in a candy store.

"Ok, how hot would I look in one of those?" she said happily when she laid eyes on the display of the women's sexy costumes.

"I think you would look tragic," replied Carson in a bored voice. "I mean, seriously? Why the fuck do Sexy Dorothy costumes even exist? That character is supposed to be a twelve year old girl."

"You are such a Halloween Grinch," said Santana. "Loosen up a bit. Let's try on some costumes. Look, they make sexy ones for men, too," she said, grinning mischievously as she held up a package that proclaimed itself to be "Sexy Policeman."

"I'm not putting that on," said Carson firmly.

"Why not?" said Santana. "We could take pictures. How much do you think Kurt would just love to open a text message and be greeted by a picture of you in this costume? You could hold up handcuffs and say something like "You've been a bad boy, Kurtsie..."

"Oh my god, will you shut up?" hissed Carson, mortified. "I am _not_ doing that."

Santana shrugged. "Whatever. I'm trying on Sexy Dorothy."

Several hours later, after Santana had tried on almost every costume she could get her hands on, and after she and Carson had engaged in a rather juvenile fight with rubber snakes and spiders, they left the store and headed home. They didn't bother to pick up candy, figuring that they'd already missed the prime trick or treating hours, anyway. They ended up vegging out on the couch again, with a bowl of popcorn between them while they watched a TV broadcast of _The Exorcist_.

"How come she's still alive at the end of the movie?" mused Carson through a mouthful of popcorn.

"What do you mean?" asked Santana, who was absentmindedly petting Kurtsie Kitty on her lap and squinting at the spectacle happening on the screen.

"I mean, wouldn't the neck spinning thing have killed her?" asked Carson. "Nobody can survive that shit."

"You have a point there," said Santana right as Carson's phone vibrated on the coffee table and lit up with a text message from Kurt.

_**Skype. NOW. Donmt be larte.**_

_The fuck, Kurt_? thought Carson as he left Santana and Kurtsie Kitty on the couch and entered his room, where he flopped down on the bed and eagerly opened his laptop. He wondered what was up with the spelling errors in his twin's text.

He had his answer almost immediately as soon as he logged onto Skype and accepted Kurt's call. Kurt made spelling mistakes because he was drunk off his ass.

"Caaarseeeey," he greeted him in a happy, sing-song voice, and Carson wasn't sure whether to laugh at how adorable it was, or be horrified at Kurt's costume. Not because it was a bad costume, but because it was so tight and revealing. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, exactly, but he knew that it involved a half unbuttoned shirt and very, very tight pants. _He wore THAT around a bunch of horny, drunk guys all night? _

"Hi, Kurtsie," he replied, swallowing hard as Kurt heaved a huge breath and one of the buttons on his shirt popped, opening it even more and giving Carson a fantastic view of his chest. "Um... how was the party?"

"Oh my goooood, Carshey, it was fuckin' increbidle," Kurt slurred, grinning at the screen. "I drank soooo much. Man. I don't feel drunk though. I feel reeeally good."

"Um..." said Carson, not sure what to say in reply to that, because Kurt was busy _removing his shirt_, and Carson suddenly found a lot less blood flowing to his brain.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you all night," continued Kurt, peeling his shirt off and tossing it behind him with uncharacteristic carelessness. "Was so bored, shit. I wanted you there so I could dance with you and touch you and push you onto a bed and just like... just suck you dry, baby."

Carson let out a little gasp at this and quickly took the opportunity while Kurt was busy unzipping his pants to get up and shut the bedroom door. He hurried back to his laptop and watched, mesmerized, as Kurt continued stripping, somehow managing to make it seem graceful even though he was so drunk.

"Kurt, honey, what are you doing?" asked Carson, gulping as Kurt finished removing his pants, which he apparently hadn't been wearing anything underneath.

"W'ats it look like I'm doing, Carsey?" Kurt giggled, leaning into the screen and kissing it. "I wanna play w'you. Play... play sexy stuff. Pleeease?"

Well. Who was Carson to resist that? He swallowed and strained his ears, listening for any sign that Santana had left the couch.

"Oh, hell no, I know they are _not_ keeping that bitch in the house when she's all evil and shit," he heard her shout at the screen. _Ok, she's still occupied. Good._ Very good indeed, because his dick was practically pounding on the zipper of his jeans, begging to be released.

"Yeaaah, take it oooooff," crooned Kurt as Carson unzipped his own jeans and pulled them down, along with his underwear. His already mostly hard dick stood at attention, bouncing up against his stomach and leaving a dollop of pre-come in its wake. "God, you're already so hard for me. That's my baby. Get the toy, honey."

Carson gasped. "The... the toy?"

"Yes, the toy. Go get it. I wanna see you use it," said Kurt with a smile, sticking one of his fingers in his mouth and sucking on it, which wasn't doing much to settle Carson's erection down. "Go oooon, go get it. Please?"

Carson nodded numbly and hurried over to his dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and found the plain cardboard box he kept hidden under a pile of hoodies, retrieving it and carrying it over to the bed so Kurt could see him. He slowly opened the box and pulled out the toy Kurt was referring to. Before they had separated for the year, they had made the decision together to each purchase their own special sex toy, in order to have something handy to occasionally spice up their cyber sex life. Neither of them had very much idea of what they were doing when it came to purchasing relationship aides, but somehow they had managed to pick out a toy each. They weren't much, just your average run of the mill vibrators specially designed for prostate stimulation. They were almost identical but for their colors (Carson's was blue, Kurt's was green), and usually they only got pulled out every once in a while on special occasions when one or both of the twins was in an especially horny mood.

Apparently, tonight was one of those times.

"Prepare yourself for me," Kurt ordered, settling back in his chair and running his fingers over his own chest. "Wanna seeee you."

Carson nodded, unable to say much because _holy shit this is hot, oh my god._ He wordlessly reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube he kept there for occasions such as this before settling himself comfortable on the bed with the laptop in a good position for Kurt to see everything. He uncapped the bottle and poured some lube on his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it up a little.

"Go on, honey. Finger y'erself. Pretend it's my fingers, ok?" pressed Kurt, and Carson smiled and nodded.

"Yes, baby," he replied, reaching his hand down between his legs and circling his own entrance with his fingers.

"That feel good?" asked Kurt in a low, rough voice, and Carson could swear that if he had ovaries, they would have exploded by now.

"Mmm-hmm," he said, nodding as he pressed one finger up into himself and moaned. "Hrrngh..."

"You like my fingers inside you, don't you, Carsey?" Kurt crooned, and Carson could see his twin's hand moving slowly between his legs as Kurt stroked himself. _God, this shit is hot. God bless whoever the fuck invented Skype._

"Yes... _mmm_... love your fingers in...inside me...fuck..." Carson babbled, trying to keep his voice low so as not to alert Santana what was going on. He worked himself up to two fingers, and then three, while Kurt moaned and pumped himself in his fist.

"Mmm, yeah, fuck yourself for me," murmured Kurt. "Use the toy, now. Go on."

Carson didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed the vibrator from the bed and wasted no time lubing it up before teasing it against his hole. He slowly pushed it inside, waiting for his muscles to relax as he eased it in inch by inch, until it was almost fully buried inside.

"How's that feel?" asked Kurt.

"Big," Carson replied, slowly easing the toy out and then thrusting it back in with a bit back moan. "Mmm... not as big as you, though... doesn't feel nearly as good."

"I know, honey, but that can't be helped," said Kurt, his hand moving faster now over his own dick. "Can't wait until I see you for the holidays, you have no... unnngh... no fucking idea what I'm gonna do to you..."

"Oh god," Carson moaned, the very mental image of all the possible things Kurt could mean, combined with the stimulation against his sweet spot by the toy, sending jolts of electric pleasure all throughout his body. He increased his pace, fucking into himself with the toy while Kurt watched him. He imagined that it wasn't a toy. That it was Kurt, that Kurt was in the room with him, on top of him, fucking him right into the mattress.

"Turn it on."

"What?" asked Carson, opening his eyes and looking at his laptop screen, where Kurt was staring at him with hungry eyes.

"I said turn it on," Kurt repeated. "The toy. Turn it on."

Shivering delightedly, Carson followed orders and flipped the switch at the base of the toy. That was all it took to send him straight into orgasm, and he bit his lip as he threw his head back and rode it out, not slowing down his movement of his hand until it became too much. He flopped back against his pillows, easing the toy out of himself and breathing hard as he glanced at Kurt, who apparently had just finished as well.

"God," Carson groaned. "What the fuck... that was... we should..."

"Do that more often? Yeeesh," agreed Kurt, rubbing his own seed into the skin of his stomach, and if Carson hadn't literally just come, he would have been hard again in a second just thinking about licking it up off of him. As if he'd read Carson's mind, Kurt ran a finger through the mess and brought it up to his lips, delicately licking at it while staring at Carson through hooded eyes.

"Mmm... wish you were here to clean this for me."

"Wanky," came a very familiar, very unwelcome voice from out in the hallway, and Carson groaned in annoyance as he and Kurt heard it at the same time.

"I'm gonna kill her," he muttered.

"Good idea," agreed Kurt.

* * *

"So," said Sebastian, leaning against the wall of Kurt's room and giving him a cheeky grin while he watched Kurt pack his bags. "Thanksgiving at the old homestead, hmm? What fun, what fun. Planning to fuck Carson into your childhood mattress, or will it be the other way around?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't you love to know, pervert," he replied casually, folding one last scarf and adding it to the pile of clothes before zipping his suitcase shut with a flourish. He wasn't about to let anything spoil his good mood, least of all Sebastian with his many inappropriate comments. He'd been pretty surprised when he'd gotten a phone call from his dad several weeks earlier, offering to pay the price of the plane tickets to get him and Carson home to Lima for Thanksgiving.

"It's been a while since I've seen you boys," Burt had said. "It'd be nice to have the whole family over for Thanksgiving, you know? I may or may not have a conference scheduled around Christmas, so this could be the last time I get to see you before Carson's graduation."

Kurt hadn't needed much convincing. He did miss his dad and Carole, and plus, he'd be a complete fool to turn down the opportunity to see Carson after being apart for so long.

"We'll be there," he said. Which brought him to here, in the present time, dragging his suitcase off the bed and breezing past Sebastian on his way to add it to the three suitcases he'd already packed and placed out in the hallway.

"Jeez, Kurt, are you planning to spend the weekend or the rest of your life?" asked Sebastian, letting out a low whistle when he saw the amount of luggage. "Or are you perhaps planning on having to change your clothes a lot?" he asked with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows. "You know... particularly the pants?"

"Oh, shut up," replied Kurt. "Like I'm going to grace you with the intimate details of mine and Carson's sex life."

"You don't need to, sweets. You're not exactly quiet when you have cyber sex," Sebastian pointed out. "Particularly when you're drunk."

"Yeah, I'm gonna go now and pretend that you didn't say any of what you just said," replied Kurt.

"Oh? Tell me, how do you plan to get all of those suitcases out of the building and into a cab?" asked Sebastian curiously. Kurt looked at his pile of luggage, suddenly discouraged. Sebastian had a point. _Damn it._

"Need help?" asked Sebastian with a saucy smile, and Kurt groaned inwardly.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Thought so," said Sebastian cheerfully, taking the handles of two suitcases while Kurt took the other two. They made their way out of the building and onto the street, where Kurt hailed the first cab he saw passing by and began loading all his luggage into the trunk.

"Thanks," he said as Sebastian loaded his half on top and shut the trunk. "I guess I'll see you on Monday."

"I'll be here. And I'll be waiting eagerly for details of your latest romantic romps," replied Sebastian with a grin.

"Yeah, keep dreaming," said Kurt sarcastically before scrambling inside the cab and giving the driver directions to the nearest airport. He was on top of the world right now. He was going to see his dad and his love in a matter of hours, and nothing and no one was going to get him down. It seemed like the flight lasted forever, but before he knew it, the plane was touching ground in Ohio and he was entering the airport, looking around eagerly for his dad, who had promised to meet him there. He didn't take much notice of the other people around him until he suddenly felt a pair of hands reaching around his face and covering his eyes.

"Guess who," said a familiar voice that instantly made Kurt gasp and his heart start beating rabbit quick.

"Maybe you could help me," Carson continued. "I'm looking for this guy. About 5'10, impeccably styled brown hair, probably wearing a scarf. Devastatingly handsome. Answers to the name Kurt Hummel."

"Oh shut up, you dork," Kurt squealed, turning around and throwing himself into Carson's arms. He hugged him tight, and it just felt so good to be back like this. He never wanted to separate. He would have been more than happy standing there in the middle of the airport forever just hugging Carson in front of everyone. He wondered if he could sneak in a kiss on the lips, and was about to try, but the sound of his dad's happy shout in their direction stopped him.

"Boys!" he said, running up to them and wrapping them both up in a tight hug.

"Ow, Dad. Ribs," said Carson, and Burt let go of them to step back and look them both over carefully.

"Carson, how are things?" he asked, sounding concerned. "Your therapy and medication, they working out for you?"

Carson nodded. "I'm fine, Dad. I feel great. Really." Kurt found his hand and squeezed it affectionately, wanting so badly to kiss him. _Come on, Dad, you couldn't have waited a minute or two?_

"Good," said Burt, before turning to Kurt and smiling. "How's New York, Kurt? Still kicking butt at that school?"

"Yep," said Kurt.

"You boys doing ok in general? You know... away from each other and all of that?" Burt asked carefully, and Kurt and Carson nodded at the same time. In hindsight, Kurt thought he probably should have sensed that something was up, but at the time he just wanted to change the subject before he blushed too much.

"Fine," he said hurriedly.

"Never better," added Carson.

"Good. Well, let's head on out of here as quick as we can," said Burt, leading them over to the baggage claim as he spoke. "Your stepmother is driving herself nuts with preparing for tomorrow and with getting Finn settled in, and I'm sure she's going to put us all to work as soon as we get home."

"Oh god, I _need_ to be in charge of the stuffing," said Kurt. "I'm the undisputed master of stuffing." He heard a snort from Carson and elbowed him in the ribs.

"Let's prepare for a Lima Thanksgiving, boys," said Burt cheerfully as they walked out of the airport and into the parking lot.

In general, it was one of the best Thanksgivings that Kurt could ever remember having in recent memory. Probably because it was the first time he and Carson had both been home for it in years, and mostly he had so very much to be thankful for that year. And probably a little bit because it was a rare opportunity to have as much sneaky sex with Carson as was humanly possible, forever leaving their mark on every surface of their old bedroom.

"Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to do this when we were in high school?" said Kurt the first moment they had the house to themselves on Thanksgiving night, after the rest of the family had gone out to get an early start on Black Friday shopping. He dragged Carson into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind them before pushing his twin down onto the bed.

"_You_?" asked Carson. "What about _me_? If I had a nickel for every ill timed boner you gave me back then, I swear to god..."

"Oh god, shut up," said Kurt, straddling him on the bed and leaning down to press their lips together in a desperate kiss. It had definitely been way too long since they'd done this, and Little Kurt was definitely insisting on getting the party started as soon as possible. Carson's hands started pawing at Kurt's clothes, and Kurt did the same, the both of them fumbling around and giggling against each other's mouths until they were almost fully undressed, save for their underwear.

"Mmm, can you imagine if we'd gotten to do this in high school?" Kurt whispered against the skin of Carson's neck before he started licking and sucking at it. He made sure not to do it hard enough to leave a hickey, since they _were_ staying with their family and everything. Frankly, he was proud of himself for his own restraint there, because Carson's neck was delicious. "If I could have made you mine every night before we went to sleep? I would never have made it through a school day, I swear. We would have been christening every fucking janitor's closet..." He quickly worked his way down Carson's torso with his lips, unsure of how much time they had before someone came home. He definitely didn't want this to end unfinished.

"Don't forget the choir room... _oh fuck_," Carson gasped as Kurt quickly pulled off his underwear and tantalizingly suckled at his tip before he went for broke and sank his mouth down over his erection. He savored it, taking him in as deep as he could with every bob of his head and making sure to run his tongue teasingly along the underside while stroking gently at his balls with one hand.

"You're very good at that," Carson gasped as Kurt pulled off of him and yanked his own underwear down and off. He rooted around in one of his suitcases until he found the bottle of lube he'd hidden among all of his clothes and tossed it to Carson.

"Stretch me," he ordered him, and Carson scrambled to obey, popping the cap and drizzling a generous amount of lube onto his fingers while Kurt settled himself on his stomach. He rested his arms on a pillow and waited.

"Mmm, yeah, that choir room," he said in a low voice. "Bet I could have pounded you really well on that piano. Brad would have killed us, but... _fuuuuuck_," he moaned as he felt a lubed finger circling his entrance before pushing inside. "Yes... fuck... mmmm..." Kurt murmured, pushing back onto Carson's finger and fucking himself onto it. "Two... gimme two... oh god..." Carson followed instructions, shoving two fingers up into him and quickly working his way to three until Kurt was practically screaming into the pillow with pleasure as his twin's talented fingers brushed up again and again against his prostate.

"Enough... enough, just f-fuck me, please," Kurt gasped, unable to take anymore waiting. He heard Carson uncapping the lube bottle again, and then there was a very slick cock pressed up against him as Carson positioned himself on top of his back and pushed in.

"Don't go slow, just fuck me," Kurt begged. "Please... _oh_..." Carson did as he was told, burying his face in Kurt's neck and thrusting into him like a wild animal as Kurt moaned and gasped out his pleasure. Every nerve was on fire, every inch of his insides burned with the feeling of Carson filling him up, and he _loved_ it. He could feel himself skyrocketing toward an orgasm quicker than he would have liked, and he desperately tried to think of unpleasant things to take the edge off a bit. He didn't want this to end yet. Or ever.

"Oh... uh... god... fuck..." he babbled as Carson plowed into him, and despite his best efforts, he could feel that this was definitely going to be ending soon. "Oh _god_, Carson, hrrn..."

"Shhh," hissed Carson, who had stilled his movements. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Kurt, but even before he'd finished his sentence he could hear exactly what Carson was talking about. Specifically, the sound of car doors slamming shut out in the driveway.

"Shit," Carson groaned.

"Don't you dare stop fucking me," Kurt demanded, reaching back and batting weakly at Carson's ass. "Keep.,.. keep... _oh!_" Carson had begun thrusting again, slower this time, but still rough, and Kurt couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips just as the front door downstairs opened.

"Oh god, shhhh," Carson hissed, and suddenly Kurt found a hand clapped tightly over his mouth as Carson fucked into him. Apparently, this did it for Kurt, because he muffled his screams and moans of pleasure into Carson's hand as he came, harder than he ever remembered coming in his entire life. Carson followed him several thrusts later, collapsing on top of him for a minute before they both scrambled up and began quickly throwing their clothes back on.

_There goes THOSE pants_, Kurt thought with a sigh as he got dressed, but he couldn't really say he minded. He exchanged a smile with Carson as they heard voices talking downstairs and bags being set down.

"Best Thanksgiving ever?" said Carson.

"Best Thanksgiving ever," agreed Kurt.

* * *

He should have known it would be too good to last very long, though. The last day of their visit started off on a bad enough note when the twins took the time to pay their grandmother a visit at the assisted living home. Her health was rapidly declining, and it showed. She didn't remember either of them at all, not even a comment about how they looked familiar. Kurt didn't know how to process his emotions, and he was used to seeing Carson looking sad, but not quite like this.

"Hey," he whispered softly as they left the home that day, slipping his hand into Carson's and rubbing his thumb gently over his twin's knuckles. "Hey, it'll be ok."

Carson hadn't said anything, just kissed the side of Kurt's head and pulled him in close by the waist.

And then a much, much bigger bomb was dropped on them that night. They were busy packing their bags for their respective flights home the following morning when there was a knock on their door and Burt stuck his head into the room cautiously.

"Hey," he said, sounding nervous as he cleared his throat and looked around. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," replied Kurt, waving him inside. Burt entered the room and shut the door behind him as he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor.

"Maybe you boys should sit down," he said after a moment of silence. Kurt was instantly alarmed. Their dad hardly ever sounded so serious. In fact, the last time he'd looked that nervous had been when their mother's prognosis took a turn for the worse and he had sat them down to tell them the bad news.

"What is it, Dad?" asked Kurt, exchanging a nervous look with Carson as they sat down beside each other on the bed. "Is... is it Grandma?"

"What? Oh... no," said Burt, shaking his head. "No, it's um... well... gosh, you know, I just don't know how to bring this up. It's not exactly a conversation I ever wanted to be having with you."

Kurt felt an uneasy feeling beginning to stir in his stomach. "Dad, what is it?"

Burt took a deep breath and pulled out the chair from Carson's old desk, settling himself into it and focusing down on his hands. "I hadn't wanted to bring this up, and I almost didn't, but... I've decided that it's probably best if we just clear the air about it," he began, quite visibly nervous now. "Kurt, I had a visit a couple of weeks ago."

"From who?" asked Carson.

"Well... from Blaine," answered Burt quickly. Kurt felt his stomach turning to ice, and his hand instinctively reached for Carson's, who took it and squeezed it. _Oh god. Oh god, no. Please, no. Oh god, Carson was right when we discussed... when... when we said that it was weird that Blaine had been so silent all this time and that Dad should hear it from us if he was going to hear it at all, and... FUCK._

"Dad," he managed to croak out, but Burt held up a hand quickly to stop him.

"Just... just let me finish. Now, I won't go into the nitty gritty details of how that conversation with Blaine went," their father continued. "Suffice it to say that after everything he's said, he's not welcome back in my home ever again. But the point of the matter is...um... I guess that what I'm asking is... do you two have anything you'd like to tell me?"

Kurt felt sick. He was suddenly very, very hot all over, and never before in his entire life had he wished quite so hard for the floor to just open beneath him and swallow him up. Next to him, Carson clearly wasn't faring much better. He was white as a sheet, and Kurt could actually feel the bed shaking from how hard _Carson_ was. The two of them were silent, holding tight to each other's hand and looking with wide eyes down at the floor. _Please. Oh god, please just open up and take us both._

"Dad," Carson suddenly spoke up, in a voice so small and scared that Kurt could barely hear it. "Dad, we... we..." He couldn't get any further, and Kurt could see the effort he was putting into not crying right there on the spot.

"I know," said Burt quietly, heaving a huge sigh. "I've known for a long time."

Kurt snapped his head up sharply. "What?"

Burt sighed. "Look, boys, it's not like I _wanted_ to know, you know? I tried very hard, for a lot of years, to lie to myself and say that you were just very close because you're twins, or because you were sticking together to help each other through the loss of your mom, or because you didn't have anyone else who understood you as much as each other. I wanted very badly to believe those things. Even to believe that it was just a phase or something. But as you got older, and it just wasn't settling down, even with Kurt dating Blaine, well... I don't know what I thought."

Kurt felt hot tears stinging his eyes as he struggled not to break down. He wasn't sure if he felt humiliated or just sad. Or both. _Goddammit, Blaine._

"All I want to know is if it's true," continued Burt quietly. "Is there, uh... is there something going on here now? Between you two?"

There was absolute silence in the room for several minutes. Kurt had no idea what to say, and Carson probably didn't either. He didn't even want to think about what this must be doing to Carson's anxiety.

"Dad," Carson said at last, having lost the battle with his own tears. "Dad, we... oh god, please don't hate us..."

"Hey," said Burt, getting up immediately from his chair and crossing over to them, wrapping them both in a hug. "Don't you ever think for a second that I hate you. Either one of you. You got that?"

"I love him, Dad," Carson sobbed into their father's shoulder.

"We can't help the way we feel," Kurt added, surprised at the strength and control of his own voice, considering the situation. "I tried to lie to myself too, and it didn't... it didn't end well..." He just had no idea what else to say. What was there to say, really? Everybody present knew the truth. He just hoped with all his heart, for his own sake, but especially for Carson's, who was already so fragile anyway, that their father would be kind.

"Look," said Burt, letting go of them after a moment and settling himself back into the desk chair. "I wish I knew what to say to make everything ok, but I've got to tell you, I honestly have no idea what to say here. I'm not going to pretend to be completely ok with this. I hope you understand what I mean when I say that I'm not sure if I can really process this information immediately. Or if I'll ever be able to really... you know... accept it. _NOT _that I don't still love you just as much," he added quickly. "I love both of you more than anything else in the world, and I want you to understand that. I want you to be happy, and clearly you... you make each other happy. I just... this is a lot, you know. For me. It's gonna take time. A lot of time. I love you, but I'm not there yet. I'm gonna try. You better believe I'm gonna try my hardest. Ok? Don't... don't think I'm not."

Kurt felt Carson burrowing into his side, holding onto his hand for dear life as he cried softly. His arm went instinctively around Carson's shoulder as they both sat there, too dumbfounded to move or say much. Burt got back up from the chair and hugged them again, and Kurt could see now that he'd also been holding back from crying.

"It'll be ok, boys," he said quietly. "We'll all be ok."

There weren't many more words exchanged that night, after Burt had said good night to them and left them alone. Nor did they sleep very much. They simply held on tightly to each other as they lay in bed. Kurt felt safe as long as he had Carson to hold onto, and he knew, without Carson having to tell him so, that his twin felt the same.

_It'll be ok. We'll all be ok._

* * *

To say the least, their father knowing their not so well kept secret did absolutely nothing to quell Carson's anxiety. In fact, he seemed to be suffering more attacks than ever before, even when it wasn't raining. It sucked, and Dr. McNeil changing his dosage took forever to take any effect. It was humiliating having both Kurt _and_ Santana worrying over him every time he had an episode, and he wished fervently that he could just be a normal person again. Not that he remembered what that was like, exactly.

Thankfully, he did have Christmas to look forward to. Since their dad indeed had a conference scheduled for the week of Christmas, the twins decided to just meet up in New York for the holiday. Carson had a feeling that neither of them were quite ready to face going back home to Lima right now, anyway, even despite the fact that Burt was, for all intents and purposes, acting as though nothing had happened. He still called Carson on a weekly basis, still fussed at him to take care of himself, and still filled him in on what was going on at home and asked him how Kurt was doing. In other words, he was being the same dad he'd always been.

Still, though. Carson wasn't sure he was ready to go back home at the moment, so it was just as well that they had no reason to.

Sebastian, of course, was just pleased as punch to have Carson (and Kurtsie Kitty, whom Carson refused to leave behind in Chicago by himself) over for Christmas. Carson was pretty sure that this was only because it gave him ample opportunity to make a plethora of twincest jokes, but he didn't even care. All he cared about was that he was going to be spending Christmas with Kurt, their first Christmas as an actual, together couple, and he was determined to enjoy himself.

"This is gonna be so much fun, boys," said Sebastian excitedly the minute Carson had settled in and put his things away in Kurt's bedroom. "My home is your home. Feel free to screw each other's brains out anywhere. I assure you, I will not mind. By the way, that... that thing," he said, pointing to Kurtsie Kitty, who was wandering around looking at his new surroundings with a confused, slightly panicked face. "It _does_ know how to use a litter box, right?"

Carson rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sebastian, he does. He _does_ normally live in a city, you know."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," said Sebastian, reaching down to pet gently at Kurtsie Kitty's head. "What's the little guy's name, anyway?"

"Chris," Carson answered quickly as Kurt snorted. "His name is Chris."

Of course, what with his and Kurt's track record of basically being rabbits in human clothing, it didn't take very long for them to be taking Sebastian up on his offer to have sex anywhere, although they did confine it to Kurt's bedroom only. Even though Sebastian had plans the first night of Carson's visit and therefore wasn't around to cockblock them, they were taking no chances.

"Nice... _mmmph_... nice bed," Carson panted, trying to balance himself on his knees and elbows while Kurt knelt behind him, grasping him by the hips and pounding relentlessly into him as though his life depended on it. "Very comfortable... _fuck_."

"I know, right?" answered Kurt, giving a particularly hard thrust into Carson at just the right angle and making Carson let out a cross between a squeak and a scream. "I have no idea what material this mattress is... _mmm.._ made of, but I... _fuck_...I think that when we have our own apartment, we need to find one just... just like... _uh_... _uh... god..._" He gave up talking and flipped them over, pulling Carson's legs up and wrapping them around his waist before he plunged back in and began fucking into him, hard, fast., and desperate. His hands were holding Carson's wrists up over his head, and apparently being held down was a thing for Carson, because he nearly blacked out when he came, barely even noticing when Kurt followed him, filling him up with a pleasant warmth.

"I think we both have bondage kinks," said Carson after a moment of silence, as they lay there trying to catch their breath in the afterglow.

"I agree," said Kurt. "I like having your hand on my mouth, and you like being held down. We're both kinky bastards."

"Not that I mind this," added Carson.

"Definitely not.

"Shower?"

"Shower."

"Looking for a third person to join you in the shower?" came a voice from out in the hallway, and Carson and Kurt groaned at the same time.

"It's only five more months," Kurt reminded him, leaning over and planting a kiss on his cheek. "And then we'll be free to have sex any time we want with no risk of interruptions."

"What a glorious day that will be," mumbled Carson.

* * *

Christmas came and went without much fanfare. Kurt gave him a new, impossibly soft and warm hoodie, and Carson gave him a gorgeous blue scarf he'd picked out with Santana's help.

"I thought it matched your eyes," he said, blushing when Kurt opened it.

"It's beautiful," Kurt said, giving him a radiant smile before wrapping his arms around his neck and capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "I love it. And I love you. And this Christmas means so much to me. I spent so many of them wishing that I could just have the only thing I ever really wanted, and now I _finally_ have it." He kissed him once more and pressed their foreheads together, reaching one hand up to cup the side of Carson's face gently.

"And you'll always have it," Carson promised. _Always._

Before Carson knew it, and before he was ready, it was New Years and his visit with Kurt would be coming to an end. The very thought of not seeing Kurt again until graduation made his heart hurt, and he tried his hardest to savor every remaining moment they had together, knowing that it had to last him a long time. He was even able to ignore the fact that Santana spent the last few days of the holidays in New York with them, bonding with Sebastian over their mutual love of being perverts.

"How many places in here have they fucked in, exactly?" she asked him while Kurt and Carson sat cuddled together on the living room couch, trying to ignore her.

"I can't be sure, as I haven't exactly been home the whole vacation, but I'd say at least four, not including Kurt's room," replied Sebastian. "Aint that right, boys?"

"Stop," Carson groaned.

"That's not what you were saying to Kurt last night," Sebastian quipped, and Carson saw Santana give him a high five out of the corner of his eye.

"Rabbits," said Santana. "By the way, where's Kurtsie Kitty?"

Sebastian let out a guffaw. "_Who?"_

"Carson's cat," said Santana. "That little bastard loves me."

"Kurtsie Kitty, huh?" snorted Sebastian. "Oh my _god."_

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it the fuck up. Santana, how the hell are you even here?" grumbled Carson. "Plane tickets this time of year cost balls."

"Never mind that. Point is I'm here," answered Santana. "And it's almost midnight on New Year's Eve and I wants to see you get your sweet twin kisses on."

"And despite the fact that her habit of adding an 'S' where it's not needed drives me up the proverbial wall, I agree with Santana," said Sebastian. "Come on, boys. We're waiting."

"Ball's dropping, Hummels," Santana said gleefully. "Come on, let's see you get your mack on."

Carson exchanged an exasperated look with Kurt and sighed. "What the hell is it with you two and seeing us be intimate? I don't understand it."

"It's hot," Santana and Sebastian answered at the same time.

"Let's just give them what they want," said Kurt quietly, leaning in just as the clock struck twelve and pressing his lips softly against Carson's. Clearly he had intended it to be a rather chaste kiss, considering their audience, but it quickly deepened, and Carson almost forgot that there were other people in the room until a loud "Aaaaaaaw" snapped him out of his reverie.

"I hate you both," he groaned as he and Kurt parted from the kiss. Kurt tucked his legs up underneath himself and cuddled close to Carson, rolling his eyes in their friends' direction.

"Nah, you love us," said Santana. "Let's not forget that without me, you both would probably still be pining away for each other in your diaries or whatever. You owe me."

As much as Carson hated to admit it, she did kind of have a point there.

_Maybe she won't mind helping me plan a proposal, then._

* * *

After all the excitement of seeing Carson for Christmas, January seemed to drag on forever for Kurt. He went to all his classes and did his best at _Vogue_, but his full focus and attention just wasn't in it. He was far too busy thinking about the upcoming spring, in which Carson would graduate from Northwestern and the two of them would finally be moving in together as a fully realized, adult couple.

And the more Kurt thought about it, the more he decided that he really wanted to take their relationship to the next level. The ultimate level, he supposed, because where else was there to go once you were married?

The problem, of course, was that he had absolutely no idea how the hell they would even go about doing that. He stayed up many a night pondering it, but not coming up with any solution. They couldn't legally get married, obviously. Kurt supposed there weren't a lot of states falling all over themselves to grant marriage equality to related couples. So that was definitely out. That was just as well. He hated dealing with courts anyway, after how long it took to get a restraining order put on Blaine (they had finally gotten one, though, and Blaine was now legally forbidden from being anywhere near him, Carson, or their father).

Anyway. Marriage. Even if they could somehow get married (maybe with a commitment ceremony, Kurt decided), well... who would they tell about it? Santana and Sebastian, obviously. They would support them and be happy for them. But what about their dad? Would he support it? He was slowly coming around to accepting their relationship at all, but what would he do when they decided to marry or commit or whatever they did? Would he even accept it? Kurt had the uneasy feeling that a marriage might just be a little too much for their dad to swallow.

What would they do about a wedding, then? What would they do if they ever came across someone who wasn't nearly so laid back and accepting of their relationship as Santana or Sebastian or, to a lesser extent but still as much as he could, their father? What would they do about a lot of things?

"I say just worry about yourselves and your own relationship, and to hell with what anyone else thinks of it," said Sebastian wisely when Kurt, for some reason he wasn't entirely sure of, brought it up to him one cold February morning as they sat across from one another at Starbucks. "At the end of the day, all that matters is that you guys love each other, right?"

"I hate when you say things that make sense," replied Kurt, sipping thoughtfully on his coffee.

"Glad to be of help," said Sebastian with a smile. "So, _are_ you going to be getting married any time soon? I mean, are you going to wait a while after Carson graduates, or what?"

"Good question," murmured Kurt. He really, honestly didn't know.

"Ok, well, how about Valentine's Day?" asked Sebastian. "Anything special planned for that?"

"Well, not really," said Kurt regretfully. "Neither of us can afford to fly to visit the other, so I think we're just going to skip this year and make up for it next year when we live together. Which really sucks, because it's our first Valentine's Day as an actual couple."

"Hmmm," said Sebastian thoughtfully. "Interesting..."

"What's interesting?" asked Kurt.

"The fact that I never actually gave you a Christmas present," replied Sebastian, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling something out, which he handed over to Kurt.

"Is... is that a plane ticket?" asked Kurt, gaping at the slip of paper in his hand.

"It is indeed," replied Sebastian with a smile. "Go to Chicago this weekend. Spend Valentine's Day with Carson."

"I... but... you don't have to..." Kurt babbled, looking awkwardly from the ticket to Sebastian and back again.

"I know, but for some strange reason, I feel weirdly invested in your adorable little relationship," said Sebastian. "And if you ever tell anyone I have a soft side, I'll deny it until my dying day."

"Thank you," said Kurt, still staring wide eyed at the ticket in his hand. "Seriously, just... thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"This still doesn't mean you're getting a threesome, though."

"Damn it."

* * *

Carson wasn't sure whether to blame his recent bout of melancholia on his mental illness or on the fact that it was only February and there were still three long months to go until he would graduate from college and be free to live with Kurt. All he knew at the moment was that Valentine's Day weekend was coming up and, much as he hated to admit that it bothered him, he was going to be spending it mostly alone, with only a Skype call to Kurt to mark the occasion. He supposed it was ok, though. Next year, he reminded himself, he and Kurt would be living together and he would be able to go all out and plan a nice, romantic Valentine's Day for his twin.

_Just think of next year. Just think of next year_.

He found himself saying that to himself a lot lately. Whenever he woke up, gasping and sweating, in the middle of a panic attack. When he came home early one day and walked right past Santana and an unnamed woman making sure that he would never look at vibrators the same way again. While he took Kurtsie Kitty to the vet to get neutered, unable to put it off any longer since the cat was getting increasingly restless, and spraying was likely to be the next step if Carson didn't take care of the problem. While he cuddled him and spent extra time making sure Kurtsie Kitty felt loved and doted on afterwards.

"Poor kitty, did mean old Carson cut your balls?" Santana cooed at him. "That monster."

"Oh, just shut up. I feel guilty enough as it is," Carson muttered.

_Just think of next year._

And now, on the day before Valentine's Day, to add insult to injury, it was raining out. Not just any rain, either. It was a real bitch of a downpour, and Carson was honestly surprised that he was still alive, because his chest was so tight and he was having such a hard time breathing. This was one of his worse panic attacks, for sure. He felt bad for Santana, who, to her credit, usually handled his panic attacks nicely and never made him feel like a burden for it.

"Where's Kurt?" he whined, holding his head in his hands and rocking back and forth as Santana tried calling Kurt for the fifth time. "Where is he? He always answers his phone, especially at night. Oh god, what if he's dead? What if he's dead and he's not ever coming back and..."

"Shhhh, Carson, calm down," said Santana, putting her arms around him and letting him rest his head on her shoulder. "I'm sure he isn't dead. He probably just doesn't have his phone on him, or the battery's dead. It happens. He'll call."

But Kurt didn't call, and Carson ended up being half dragged and half carried into his own bed later by Santana, who tucked him in and turned out the light before leaving the room.

_Wish Kurt was here_, he thought drowsily before drifting off to sleep. _My chest hurts and I want Kurt to hold me._

The next thing he knew, his eyes were fluttering open and there was something not quite right about his bed. He shifted a little, trying to figure out what it was while he settled back against the soft body behind him.

Wait a minute. Body?

He tiredly turned himself around and squinted into the darkness of the room. He thought he could make out Kurt's face on the pillow beside him, but... but that wasn't possible. He had to be dreaming, because Kurt was in New York, and he was here, and they weren't together right now.

"Kurt?" he whispered, reaching one hand out to touch the face in front of him. He was expecting to feel air, because hallucinations weren't real. But no, he felt skin. And hair. And there were eyes blinking at him.

"Kurt?" he repeated, his eyes flying open as he realized that he wasn't, in fact, alone in his bed. "Kurt, oh my god! What are you doing here?"

Kurt smiled and reached one hand out to stroke his hair. "I wanted to surprise you for Valentine's Day, honey. I... I'm sorry that you couldn't call me earlier. I was on the plane, and Santana told me you had an attack, and... god I'm so sorry."

Carson shook his head. "No, fuck that, I don't..." He reached his hand out to touch Kurt's face one more time, just to make sure he was real. "I wished you were here. Before I fell asleep."

Kurt wrapped his arms around him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm here now, baby. Go back to sleep. You must be exhausted."

He was, actually. He yawned and settled his head on Kurt's chest, letting the beating of his twin's heart lull him off to sleep.

They didn't end up leaving the bed for most of the weekend, and Carson wouldn't have had it any other way. There was no more perfect way to spend Valentine's Day than to be held, and cherished, and worshipped as Kurt made love to him over and over again, their hearts beating together and their hands and lips joined. He didn't even care that Santana was ready with a barrage of jokes at their expense when they eventually had to leave the room to eat. Nothing mattered except that they were together, and he was happy.

_Yep. Definitely gonna marry him._

* * *

He wasn't kidding, either. He'd made up his mind over the summer, but by Valentine's Day he was definitely sure that he wanted to marry Kurt as soon as he possibly could. He just needed to make everything perfect first.

So he juggled his schedule around a bit, managing to obtain a part time job doing filing in an office four days a week, when he wasn't in classes. Thankfully, his class load for his last semester was pretty light, which made working not as much of a burden as it otherwise might have been. He needed the job, though, because he needed to save up money for an engagement ring. He wanted to propose to Kurt right after graduation, and he would be damned if anything was going to stop him. Not even his own self doubt. It was a rough spring for him. It rained practically every damn day, and he thought for sure that the panic attacks would never end.

_What the fuck am I thinking? I can't ask Kurt to marry me while I'm like this. Why the fuck would he want to be bound to spend the rest of his life with me when I can't even handle a drizzle outside?_

"Snap the fuck out of it," Santana told him one day in April as she dragged him by the hand into a jewelry store so they could comparison shop for rings. "You're gonna propose and it's gonna be gorgeous."

"Oh, you're planning to propose?" asked the girl behind the counter, looking from Carson to Santana with a schmoopy smile on her face. "Are you two the happy couple?"

Santana snorted. "Oh, honey. No. No, he's going to propose to his man."

"Oh," said the girl, smiling over at Carson. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"My childhood sweetheart," Carson deadpanned, gazing at the ring display and feeling suddenly very overwhelmed. "We've been together for over twenty years."

"That is so sweet, oh my god!" squealed the salesgirl, but Carson barely heard her. He was too busy looking at a particular ring that had caught his eye in the middle of the display. It was silver, with a tiny blue stone in the middle that would match Kurt's eyes perfectly. He knew it had to be that ring. It was calling to him. It _had_ to be that ring.

_Oh god, _he thought excitedly as he watched the ring being placed into a small, velvet box for him to take home later that afternoon (after Santana had successfully bitched her way into getting him a pretty good price on it). _Oh god, this is it. I'm really a crazy person who's going to propose to my brother._

_I hope he says yes._

* * *

Kurt had never been prouder in his life than he was that Saturday afternoon in late May as he sat in the auditorium watching the graduating class of 2015 file across the stage to collect their diplomas. It was both Carson's graduation day and their birthday, and Kurt felt a lump in his throat as he realized what this meant for them. They were free now. They were free to move in together and actually start their lives, and Kurt was so happy he was pretty sure he was ready to burst.

"I'm so proud of you!" he squealed as he ran up to Carson after the ceremony and threw himself into his twin's arms. "My smart, degree holding baby."

"I'm gonna puke rainbows," said Santana, walking up to them and patting Carson on the shoulder.

"Oh, shut up," said Kurt. "I just watched my man graduate from college, cut me some slack here."

"Well, while you two celebrate, I'm gonna bounce. There's a pre-med graduate with a really nice rack over there that I gots my eye on," said Santana, pointing. "See you two horny bunnies later. Don't fuck anywhere I wouldn't fuck."

Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled as he hugged Carson tight."So proud of you, baby," he whispered in his ear, looking around carefully before sneaking a kiss on his lips. "I'm never letting you go again, now. You know that, right?"

"I know," said Carson, biting his lip and taking Kurt's hands. "Hey, um... after we go out for dinner, I got us a hotel room. Is that ok? I thought... well... we just need a little privacy is all..."

"Of course," said Kurt. He'd happily go anywhere with Carson right now, even if it was to Mars, or the deepest ocean trench. Just as long as they were together.

They picked a nice restaurant for dinner, and Carson seemed very fidgety and nervous throughout the meal. Kurt honestly began to worry about him midway through and wondered if they shouldn't leave.

"Carsey?" he asked, concerned. "Are you ok? Are you going to have an attack?"

"No... no, I'm fine," Carson insisted. "I've never been better."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Kurt didn't quite believe him, especially once they'd paid their bill and headed for the hotel. Carson's nervousness almost seemed to triple in magnitude, so much so that Kurt was worried he might faint before they'd even reached the floor that their room was on.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked, watching as Carson fumbled with the key card to the room. "Are you sure you're..."

He stopped in mid-sentence when he entered the room and saw what it looked like. It was... well, it was fancy, but it was still just a hotel room. What made it stand out, though, were the hundreds of soft, purple lilac petals and deep red rose petals scattered all over the place, along with the bottles of champagne and sparkling cider resting in a bucket of ice and the white candles placed on the tables and dresser. Kurt's mouth flew open and he watched, dumbfounded, as Carson scrambled around lighting the candles before walking back over to him and taking a deep breath.

"Carson?" asked Kurt.

"Kurt," said Carson, taking Kurt's hands in his own and looking nervously down at them before looking up to meet Kurt's eyes. "Um... ok, wow, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but... ok... shit... this is going badly..."

"Carson, what are you..."

"Ok, Kurt, here's the thing," Carson continued, finally seeming to find his voice. "I love you. Like... I really, _really_ love you. And I know that I'm far from perfect and that I have my share of problems and stuff, but I really think I'm getting better, and, well.. you're just... you're perfect. You're it for me, and I think you know that. I don't even want to consider the possibility of spending my life with anyone else."

Kurt swallowed, his stomach in knots as he suddenly realized where all this was going.

"And I know that I'm not exactly the perfect Disney prince that you always wanted when you were watching those movies growing up," added Carson. "But, if you'll let me... well... I'd like to try my best." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small box, and Kurt had to bite his lip to choke back a sob as Carson knelt down on one knee and very carefully opened it, revealing a gorgeous silver ring with a small blue stone.

"What I'm asking is... will you marry me?"


End file.
